Private Affair
by ZanNaz
Summary: Dan/Blair. Blair runs into Dan, ten years after graduation. A highschool reunion and a celebrity boyfriend collide, resulting in an unusual friendship. Who has stayed the same and what, if anything, has changed?
1. The Letter

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip girl, just the specific world I chose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

But she's always avoiding falling in love  
Yes, it's due to a life of a private affair  
She's always avoiding falling in love  
Yes, it's due to a life of a private affair  
Curtains clap and thrown open window  
Eyes are watching  
Neon lights, the cracks in the pavement  
lure me away  
**- Private Affair**

Chapter One:

Dan sat staring at his laptop, his fingers lingering over the keys, willing words to formulate on his tongue and transfer themselves onto the screen in front of him. He had been sitting in the same place for longer than he could remember, having lost track of all time and possibly all sanity around the fifteen hour mark.

Tilting his head back he swung his legs from their perch on the arm of a well worn chair and stretched towards the cheap heater situated under his desk. Allowing himself to take notice of his surroundings for the first time in days. Although he wanted to stay in his comfortable box of angst for as long as possible, unfortunately it was only avaliable for so long and he had already wasted a respectable amount of time being in it.

A pile of neglected laundry_ if Mount Everest could be considered just a pile_, occupied one corner of his loft. He cringed at the fact that he hadn't had any clean clothes in at least two days and he was going to have to find time to tackle that endeavour. Turning to face the kitchen his eyes met with heaps of dirty chipped mugs and plates glaring back at him, covered in sticky takeout and the occasional burnt meal. Sighing as he swivelled back-round to his computer screen, pulling himself up. None of the things he wanted to wait would wait.

Time would not slow itself down just because he couldn't formulate a sentence to save his own life at this point. And unless he wanted to completely fall under the Brooklyn prototype there was cleaning to be done as if his life depended on it.

Starting at the dishes he scrubbed and scoured for over an hour, resolving to never use plates again for anything other than looking like he might have used them at some point or another. Placing plates in cupboards they'd never been in before and hanging the mugs on wooden pegs, he felt satisfied that he could at least make the tiniest of impact somewhere at least.

Intently gathering the laundry into a plastic tub Dan reached to grab the garbage which happened to be littered to the brim with plastic utensils and other things of the sort. Dropping a worn Keats on top of the laundry he trudged out of the loft, twisting the lock into place just as his makeshift pile fell to the ground in a dramatic spill.

"Fuck ugh," His gaze remained on the floor, kneeling down to begin cleaning it up. He felt angry and disoriented suddenly at having so much garbage to throw away and laundry to do and now a large mess in the hallway because of the two.

He noticed rather offhand a stack of mail, how odd, they usually left it in his box or slid it under his door or something. But it was _right_ there, beckoning him to accept that he was probably going to have his hot water and electricity shut off in a matter of hours. Shuffling through it he noticed one envelope that felt expensive under his forefinger. Pulling it from the stack he tore the seam open and pulled out an elegant paper. Dropping the last bit of laundry into the basket he skimmed the top of the letter quickly.

St Jude's School for Boys  
And  
Constance Billiard Academy wish to invite:

**Mr. Daniel Humphrey  
Of the 2009 graduating class  
****To the Palace Ballroom  
February 21st, 2019  
A celebration of your time  
in our charge in the form  
Of a reunion.**

**RSVP immediately**

**Your presence is mandatory;  
****if you have pride in your alma matter.**

He rose slowly, clutching the paper; attempting to crush it as if he had never received, opened or glanced at it. 10 years ... had it really been that long? Of course it had. _Aging happens when you least expect it and even if you don't feel your age chances are your still going to be even if it's the last thing on your mind._

High school felt like yesterday in so many aspects, he'd counted on old memories to get him though his journalism career for several years. Prolonging the emotions in his mind, re-living each event in every word he had written. Now, just as he had reached a fifty mile high writers block, his past was conveniently slipping back into his life; tucking itself between the old and the new. Figures.

Fishing his cell phone from the jean jacket covering his shoulders he looked to the keyboard and pressed speed dial, holding the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Jenny answered, slight annoyance in the tone of her voice. Damn. Hopefully he hadn't caught her at a bad time.

"Hey Jen, its Dan."

"Dan!" She squeaked after a few seconds of silence passed, "We missed you at family dinner last week, is everything okay?"

"Uh well I was wondering if Nate's around actually" He ignored her question, lowering his head to pick at a piece of dried food on the corner of his shirt.

"Yeah he is, one second" She answered curiously, "but everything's okay _right_?"

His laugh was meek. With only two years seperating him and his younger sister she had somehow managed to become more adult than he could ever wish to be.

"Jen I'm fine, really. Just got a little caught up that's all."

"Okay" She sounded unconvinced but passed the phone over to Nate nonetheless.

"Hey man, what's up?" Nate asked, un-naturally perky, well naturally enough for him anyway.

"Guess what I just got" Dan grumbled in response, skipping the niceties and cutting straight to the chase.

"The reunion invitation" Nate's tone dropped to glum, "I know. Sucks right?"

Dan opened his mouth to say something just as a bout of hysterical cries erupted from the opposite end and he shut it quickly. Listening intently as Nate quietly whispered something to Jenny, turning his attention back to the conversation a few minutes later as the crying slowly became more faint, finally silencing altogether.

"Sorry about that, Tallia just woke up" Nate explained apologetically.

"No, it's okay. How's my niece anyway?" Dan urged, he'd bring up the Constance Billiard subject a bit later. He hadn't talked to anyone except for his cabbage patch doll in few days and was somewhat surprised at how detached he'd managed to make himself in a few short weeks.

"Oh, she's great--"

Picking up his newly organized pile and hefty bag of garbage, Dan began down the stairwell.

"You sound unsure."

"No, I mean she's great. We're just tired. It's hard, and not, I mean," Nate was fumbling over his words, searching for the right way to explain what he was trying to say. "I mean I'm like, a dad you know? It still hasn't quite hit me _yet_." Dan smirked, pushing open the door with his elbow and turning onto the street and down the alley, depositing the garbage into a bin before turning back onto the sidewalk and stepping into the downstairs laundry mat.

His niece was only a month old and yet Jenny had taken to being a mother so quickly it seemed freakish. Whereas Nate in all his profound glory had taken a while to get to _and baby makes three. _The struggle to adjust to such a large shift was evident and sometimes Dan worried helplessly for Jenny's sake only to remind himself that he was simply being ridiculous. Nate loved her and as unlikely of a match that they made, they had managed to mesh quite well for almost five years.

"You'll get the hang of it" Dan assured him as he started sifting through his clothes, throwing things haphazardly into open washing machines.

"Say's the fatherless journalist" Nate mocked, laughing.

"Hey if there's one thing I know, it's babies" Dan retorted, hearing a light muffling as the banter was interrupted once more most likely because of Jenny or Tallia-perhaps both.

Taking advantage of the few minutes he had away from the conversation, Dan placed his cell on the top of the washer. Filling each machine containing his clothing with laundry soap before picking it up again.

"So, Nate" He stated, "Are you going to go?"

"Go where?"

"The reunion"

"Oh right. I have to, _your presence is mandatory if you have pride in your Alma matter_" Nate repeated the last line of the invitation verbatim, jokingly.

Yeah the invitation was quite a laugh riot. Dan couldn't blame him but also couldn't believe that he'd actually consider going.

"Why, aren't _you_?"

Being somewhat preoccupied with digging loose change out of his wallet he managed to answer between concentrated searches. "I wasn't really planning on it actually."

"Dude, I can't just go alone" Nate whined, "You _have_ to come."

"You won't be alone, Jenny'll be there."

"It won't be the same," he said, "What are you afraid of Humphrey?"

How did the conversation even turn to why he didn't want to go, couldn't it be simple enough that he just didn't feel like it and that would be that?

"I'm _not_ afraid Archibald," He counted emphatically. "I'm just not so sure that I wanna be" There was a pregnant pause as he added the last quarter to the final machine, "revisiting high school."

* * *

Blair Waldorf shifted slightly against the cushions on her bed as she flipped through French Vogue, glaring every few minutes at the phone on her bedside table and sighing. Since when did calling people back become so passé that the practice was hardly ever considered anymore? Traded up for a quick text or email in favour of direct, convenient communication. _Screw convenient_, if Blair Waldorf makes an effort to call you and you make the choice not to be around you do not ignore calling her back .. it just isn't done.

After a few more minutes of almost agonizing silence she realized she had exhausted the pages in her hand and pulled herself up from the bed, making her way over to the door. Passing by several maids as they completed various household duties and tasks she turned her chin up, ignoring each of them.

Reaching the kitchen she started blankly at the contents of her near empty fridge. What was she paying anyone for if not to make sure the basics were taken care of in the least? Twisting towards the scarcely filled cupboards she settled on a box of raisins pouring them into her hand. _In fact_, the triple digit paychecks she signed each week indicated that everything and anything she could desire should fill her fridge and cupboards with goodies, desserts and foreign expensive treats. _Mental note: Fire everyone, hire brand new staff._

Leaning op against the granite counter-top she picked slowly at the snack in her palm. Upon noticing a small tower of mail she picked the thick pile up, just bored enough to actually be indulging in something so _menial_. Flicking through several expected social invitations, a few bills, a postcard from Eleanor and Cyrus and ... one from Constance Billiard? Suddenly her attention was caught, pulling the letter out from it's envelope a disbelieving sigh escaped her lips as she read.

One 10 year reunion she was expected to attend... ugh. The way the words were formulated on the page gave Blair a sense of being older than she was. Granted 28 wasn't exactly 18 but it definitely didn't mean she was an old woman with peppered hair who shouted incoherent orders at the people around her while waving a cane all about. She didn't know how to recieve this information. Whether she was meant to be excited at the passing of time and the chance to catch up, or dread being practically the only person there without offspring and a husband to showcase. Just an irritating boyfriend who was too caught up in staring at himself in a gilded mirror to pick up the phone, one superficial asshole who greatly deserved to be beaten or flogged, or hung by his manicured toenails.

Whatever she was feeling it definitely agreed with the fact that they should really watch how old they made you feel on these letters/invitations, whatever you would call them. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the fluffy idea of not attending the lavish event. One social event minus the social butterfly, _couldn't be that gossip worthy could it_?

Constance Billiard had indeed been the start of everything for her. She'd gone to Yale, dropping out of contact with Serena, graduating summa cum laude. Without the experience of the ivy leagues there would be no Blair Cornelia Waldorf, she would cease to exist among New York, a passing breeze. Constance Billiard had been the beginning of everything _about_ her, therefore, with this reasoning, she knew it was childish and ungrateful to contemplate skipping out on the event as if her high school years had meant very little.

You couldn't _resist_ the inevitable; just avoid it long enough for it to know you were attempting to resist.

If it had to be done she would do it _however sceptical_ she was. After all, she did have two weeks to get better acquainted with the idea.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey there, thanks for clicking on my story! This is my first fanfiction and I'm not sure that I'll continue unless you want me too. I don't have a beta so all the mistakes are my own. Have a great weekend (:


	2. Walking into something

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gossip Girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

We'd fall right down  
We'd get back up again  
that's how we be  
you and me  
I would not crowd,  
I would not smother you  
I'd let you breathe, over me  
**- Baby I'm a blur**

Chapter Two:

Blair fell into a chair at Saks fifth avenue feeling rather annoyed. She'd been changing in and out of dresses for three and a half hours and what once presented itself as a promising morning was turning horrid so slowly that it was beginning to feel painful. Aware of the way she was flustered, as if the reunion was tomorrow instead of two weeks away, but she couldn't help it.

Since receiving the invitation things had fallen back into routine. She found she had little time to escape from work and social obligations and it was a whirlwind of pleasantries and all night coffee binges busting to meet deadline before she could even get a few feet in another direction.

Unfortunately her feet had landed her in a very big store with an overly friendly sales assistant who she'd rather watch step on nails. Instead the woman mulled about, offering praise like somebody's underpaid lap dog.

Colours were beginning to blend together and dresses started to loose shape and definition. Every piece of shiny fabric placed over her dressing room door presented her with the same look. She didn't want to be normal impressive Waldorf she had to be something more then what she was. A woman she could pretend to be for one night and not have to worry about being again, whose dress said: _yes I am successful, yes I am beautiful, no I don't have time for your small talk and yes you are as inferior as you feel in my presence._

The dress had to accompany the attitude and so far although the attitude came in strides the dress was skilfully hiding as though it knew it was being sought after. Maybe she could just design it herself after all, possibly.

Closing her eyes tightly, she imagined herself at home soaking in a bubble bath while listening to some soothing Mozart or Chopin, shopping was just not what she needed to be doing.

"Miss?" Slowly opening her eyes to disapproving slits, her lips twisted into a tiny smirk as the sales clerk hesitantly stood over her, a pile of new finds on her arm.

A flickering image of screaming in pure frustration and storming off in a powerful whirl of rage passed through her thoughts. As quickly as this idea surfaced it was gone from her eyes in mere seconds. Standing with an extended arm to transfer the dresses to the crook of her elbow she padded towards the dressing room yearning to catch the freedom of such a thought once more.

Years had passed, things had changed, but Blair Waldorf had always known why the caged bird sang.

* * *

Dan was thus far enjoying his day, he hadn't moved from the couch in two weeks except for eating and sleeping, since the surprise renunciation of his sprawling profession. Jenny had called several times absolutely frantic, something about how if he wasn't busy writing he was doing himself a dis-service, allowing his talent to waste away. So what if he was taking an official break?

After eleven years of twisting each emotion out of himself drop by drop he had become emotionally exhausted to the core. Besides, it was begging to feel downright pathetic ... staring at a computer screen hoping it would just magically inspire him. Why spend all day on an uncomfortable wooden stool when he could be on his couch dozing in and out of consciousness without the nagging idea on his wordless tongue that he out to be writing feverishly.

Standing, he stretched out his limbs, feeling the ache of emptiness as he scurried to the kitchen to rummage through cupboards. Finding only a few bags of ramein noodles; all too reminded of his college days as he looked towards the fridge.

In the distance the repetitive shrill of his house phone filled the silence, and for a second he turned to look at his living room, wondering where the phone might be, possibly under the sofa or maybe tucked away in the bed? Just as he felt that it might be important enough to answer the distinctive click and whine of the ancient answering machine echoed off the walls as it recorded the lost call.

* * *

Blair pulled her key out of the lock just as her cell phone vibrated against her palm. Parading in the door she placed several brightly coloured shopping bags on the marble before glancing at the caller ID, satisfied with the information she flipped the offending device open.

"Hey babe" Hansen greeted, slurring heavily.

"What do you want?" she snapped, normally she wouldn't feel the need to hurt him but for some reason she found herself evermore angry at his stupidity and overall demeanour. Aside from the fact that he had been entirely unreachable for several days. Why was he even bothering to call, boyfriends didn't just drop off the map and cause endless worry. Of course he would think he was the only exception to _that_ rule. She rolled her eyes at the thought as she placed her free hand on her hip, taking stance as if he were right in front of her instead of in some random hotel with whoever he could find.

"Woah hosstile Blarriee-"

"Don't call me that!" she exclaimed angrily. If she had even one nerve left from her shopping day he was definitely playing on it. It had already been worn down considerably since she had returned with bags holding everything but she had gone in search of.

He was drunk, or something. She had stopped trying to guess. Anything and everything went for him when cameras weren't around to witness and Blair wasn't physically present to remind him that she was barely holding onto him as it was.

Gossip girl had once found the relationship between such a pronounced bad boy and well-_Blair Waldorf,_ interesting. She even went as far to label him the "new" Chuck. However, Hansen did as he pleased and often ended up on the front page of several high profile dirt rags _too commercial_ for Gossip Girl. Thankfully she had thrown herself off that trail and straight back to pursing less public train wrecks.

At least she could count on him being who people expected him to be when they ventured out in public together. His fans all too oblivious to his disturbing private behaviour to care or notice that he was just one over glorified male model. He wasn't even _that_ good looking, just enough.

"Right, I'm sorryyyy."

She knew he wasn't but decided to play along since whatever she could get from him on the relationship spectrum would be greatly needed in weeks to come.

He fell silent. Expecting her to fill the awkward pause with an insult or outburst; patiently waiting for his punishment but she remained un-naturally calm despite the shooting pain she was experiencing behind her right eye. Making her way past the foyer and down the hall and into the office, situating herself in front of a large white drawing table when Hansen finally realized she wasn't going to do anything of the sort.

"Things just got crazy, one thing after the other" He exhaled deeply, trying to control his obvious drunken-ness, pronouncing his words formally.

She bent over her previous sketch, pencil poised to continue as strands of her hazelnut hair fell onto the paper.

Looking up briefly she almost laughed, how many times had she heard those words? Enough evidently that she was completely indifferent to him in almost every way, his excuses, encounters and misconduct. He was just irritating and a tiny bit worrisome.

"I know, don't worry about it" She managed, brushing the comment off lightly.

"I'll be there tomorrow; bright and early on your doorstep," he concluded. Dragging a seemingly caring sentence into one massive rush of promises she expected to be broken before his first week back home was complete. "I love you" He murmured as a horribly covered afterthought.

"Tomorrow then," She replied firmly. Not wanting to say something she clearly didn't feel anymore to someone who couldn't even grasp the concept of such words, flipping her phone closed before he had a chance to say anything more.

Her back immediately straightened, hand gripping the side of the table with such force that her knuckles whitened as her hand flew across the flimsy sketch paper. Idea's came to her when she was emotional, mostly through rage as of late. Maybe that's why she kept him around, to provoke her creative side, to keep her designing and at the top of her game. After all, there was no better entertainment or inspiration then Hansen Marls.

* * *

"Dan, watch her head!" Jenny ordered, placing a polka-dot diaper bag over his left shoulder while guiding a stroller closer to where he was standing with Tallia in arms. Dropping the last of three full trips worth of baby items onto the counter with a heavy step.

He obeyed, although having little clue as to what she was talking about. As far as he knew his niece was being held right, but for show he placed his free hand around the back of her head tentatively.

Jenny had called in a mess of faltering sobs and whispered words an hour before, leaving a murmured message on the machine before showing up red faced and teary eyed.

_She had broken a perfectly good vase throwing it at Nate's head. The crystal had shattered not two inches from his face on the wall behind them. He had wanted to discuss Tallia but at the slight mention of absentee parenting she had grown furious and the closest thing to her hand had indeed been a starkofsky original- a wedding present. He had worked up to the conversation but as it played out in front of him he could do little to move from the place his feet were planted. _

_Her mouth remained shut as she paraded into the nursery, stuffing clothing at random into an unzipped diaper bag that laid open on their mattress. Heading to kitchen where Tal was being fed by a nanny she hoisted her into her arms, taking their daughter over to the front door while the concierge hauled several items downstairs. He watched - silent as she turned to glare at him, protectively sheilding Tallia's gaze from her daddy before disappearing into the hall._

"It's just for a few days anyway" she quipped, kissing the small tuft of blonde hair on Tallia's head, "I love you baby girl." She was going to spend some time with Nate alone so they could attempt to work things out, take the next step if there even was one. Dan could tell by the way a frown spread across her face at the mention of his name that she didn't feel like there was one for the most part.

Hugging her as best he could manage with a tiny human between them he pretended not to notice the turmoil in her eyes, deep and boiling. Like nothing he had ever seen from his sister before. He was scared for her, unhappy just as she was at the pain he sensed.

"Jen, you don't have to leave just yet" He offered, "Stay for some tea or juice. I have juice" He had to think back to the contents of his fridge, "I think."

Smiling sheepishly as she tugged on her silk blouse she met her brother's eyes for a passing second.

"I" She began, as if thinking over the offer, "have to get back to Nate."

He nodded watching her turn and walk out the door. Glancing back at her daughter in her brothers arms, gurgling and waving her hands about, before forcing herself towards the limo downstairs.

A couple hours earlier when Jen had asked him to take care of Tallia for the next few days he had agreed enthusiastically, but finding himself suddenly alone with a newborn filled him with ripples of panic. He wondered how exactly to pass the time before her nap, holding her away from his chest he looked into her green eyes as if she were able to talk and verbalize what it was she wanted to do until then.

"What do you want to do huh?" He cooed in a childlike voice, laughing as she bawled her tiny hands into fists and reached for his neck eagerly.

He let her nestle back into his arms, placing the diaper bag on the back of his computer chair, bending cautiously to sit on the couch. Surveying all the pieces of furniture and various sanitized toys that filled every unused crevice upon Jenny's insistence.

Picking up the remote he flipped through the channels before settling on the three-thirty news when it hit him. He would take her to Central Park! Sure enough that would provide entertainment for a solid chunk of time and admittedly he was in dire need of some fresh air. And given that Tallia was a newborn, she would fall asleep some time after they got there. Clicking off the television set he moved behind the couch placing her in her bassinet so he could fasten the straps of the carrier onto his back.

She wriggled in the carrier, her tiny feet enclosed in white booties , dangling freely as he adjusted her wool cap. It had taken a few moments to get used to the feel of extra weight centered in his chest but he stood confidently, that was before he almost fell off balance when he added the over packed diaper bag to his shoulder.

Locking the front door he found his way down the stairs with a light step making his way towards the subway as Tallia squeaked happily at each new site, desperately grabbing at passing strangers, lights and sounds.

Brooklyn was a new adventure for her, he realized with a smile, and he was showing it to her.

* * *

Blair had been producing design after design almost mechanically, time had dropped away and she was left alone with her thoughts. Motivation pulsed through her veins casting a hopeful shimmer on each fresh page. A semi-loud knock filled the room and interrupted her train of thought abruptly, forcing her to face something other than the lamp donning her papers.

Dorota appeared behind the door, pushing it open a little with her hip.

"Yes?" she questioned absentmindedly.

In the last ten years Dorota had gotten older, her once brown hair revealed shimmers of grey. She had followed Blair faithfully once she had moved from campus and back into the city; into an apartment several blocks from Eleanor's penthouse. Blair had raised Dorota's salary three fold what it was when she had first begun working for her mother and offered her a more accommodating room when her plan to resign was announced a few years previous.

Since then she had stayed without mention of leaving, which was greatly satisfying. Blair hated to admit it but if she had let Dorota go it would have been allowing a critical piece of herself to rip off and deteriorate.

"Ms. Blair" She said, taking in the sight of the woman as she spoke. Her hair messily wrapped into a bun as tendrils fell against her neck, her beautiful red dress crumpled from being pressed against a defined surface for too long. Black Manolo heels abandoned as her feet rested on the bar underneath the desk. She looked a variety of emotions from tired to worn and excited all at once.

"I think you need get outside in fresh air. You been in here too long, time for break" And with that, she closed the door quietly and retreated down the hallway.

Sitting with her back to her work for several moments she digested the idea, staring at the door as her thoughts raced. How long had it been? Resisting the urge to look at her watch she reasoned that Dorota was right.

Standing, she padded down the hall and into her room, examining herself in the mirror. Wincing she reached to pull the elastic from her hair, brushing her long hazelnut curls out quickly. Smoothing the wrinkles out of her crumpled dress as best as could be managed without ironing it. She adjusted a blue cashmere sweater onto her shoulders, jogging back into the office to retrieve her purse. Zipping up a pair of knee length brown boots she stepped out the door and into the crisp winter air greeted warmly by the bustle of New York City.

* * *

His chest was constricting rapidly, his breathing heavy as he bent, placing one hand on his knee and the other on the back of Tallia's wool cap. One subway trip and seven blocks later the obvious was confirmed - Dan was embarrassingly out of shape.

Tal had fallen into a deep slumber sometime during the ride into the central part of the city. Her head pressed against the collar of his green flannel shirt, a damp spot of drool where her mouth hung open. Inwardly he knew that she would wake soon in a flurry of shrieks, hungry and needing to be fed and when she did he was entirely positive he would be prepared. Relying on the presumption that somewhere within the twenty five pound diaper bag hanging off his sore shoulder there existed bottles of milk.

Just as the yellow ball of sun dropped began to drop behind the skyline he reached the entrance to the park. It was such a beautiful day and he was appreciative for the simple sight of a glorious sunset in front of him. Straining in that moment between whether or not he was stupidly pathetic at having not been outside in several weeks for more than a half hour.

As he passed by gaggles of pedestrians enjoying the same brisk day, he imagined his appearance in their eyes. Pale, deep blue bruises underneath his eyes from countless nights awake, mussed brown hair that needed a thorough washing, wrinkled jeans. And with a casual glance at his shoes he took note of the mud that had caked on the sides of the black leather from some other excursion that couldn't be remembered.

For a while he wandered aimlessly, slow movements, careful not to jostle Tal awake. What it would be like to be a young kid again. Able to sleep though anything anywhere, to be experience everything with wide eyes and an ever present clean slate of hope that nothing in the world could destroy.

Due to his lack of physical fitness he grew tired just as they reached the fountain. Crowded with tourists and students he managed to squeeze into a little space on the cold stone. He buisied himself with tugging at Tal's sweater, pulling her socks a little higher, making sure her booties were on properly. It was then that he felt people gaze at him, women mostly, who's smiles broadened at the sight. To strangers he was just another attentive young father from the shadows of the city. A perfect catch snapped up by a faceless women before anyone else could get a chance.

Peeling himself off of his thoughts he turned his attention to the passing crowds who stepped around the park, each with their own place to be. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, vapour rolling from his lips, his eyes caught, pupils dilated and his pulse quickened in surprise.

Strutting in his direction was the famous Blair Waldorf, a bright red halter dress clinging to her petite frame. How long had it been since their very last encounter? He tried to do the math in his mind quickly, nine years maybe? There had never really been a lot of time to be on the other side of the bridge for reasons other than work and so a chance meeting with the woman who liked to pretend that Brooklyn NY didn't exist had been highly unlikely.

Through the grapevine he had heard that she flew off to attend Yale soon thereafter graduation and even though they both attended the same university he had known very little of her since then. Nate rarely spoke of high school or the memories that weighed the experience down - memories that were threatening to crush Dan at the sight of her.

Engrossing himself with a string on Tal's hat he couldn't help but wonder if she would even acknowledge his existence. Surely he hadn't changed enough for her to walk right past him without realizing who it was. As she neared he held his breath in anticipation, how would this play out?

"Cabbage patch?" He exhaled, it was a question uttered without certainty. The nickname held none of the contempt it had held in previous usage, only familiarity as it rolled off her tongue and stood in the space separating them.

Shifting as Tallia stretched in her sleep he looked up at her heart shaped face, smiling weakly.

"Hi Blair," His eyes travelled from the top of her head to the point of her heels. The same cream skin, hazelnut hair loosely splayed around her neck and swinging down her back in thick curls. She was untouched by time, the same woman she had been at eighteen.

"Daniel Humphrey," she repeated, confusing emotion fizzling with the clarification, curling into a polite silence.

"Yeah, that's me." The lines that had once kept them apart seemed to dissolve as history often did. A vault of possibilities was wrenched open and he sensed the need to push forward some type of small talk.

"How's life Waldorf?" In all truth he was a few paces more interested than he should have been.

"Life's" There was a pause, she reached to twist a lock of hair between her thumb and forefinger. "Hectic. I design now" She pulled at the dress covering her, "Blair Waldorf original." It almost seemed bitter the way she said it.

"Still writing? I heard you went into journalism at Yale."

"I did," He sighed at the thought "And I am, well-I'm kind of on a break right now actually."

"Really?"

He laughed. She was so enthralled by Tallia that the conversation had hit a barrier, by the expression on her face she was curious but found it inappropriate to ask. More than likely drawing the conclusion that "Brooklyn" had a daughter.

As if on cue, Tal woke with a tiny yawn. She moved about in the carrier, assessing her surroundings before her face turned a deep scarlet. Abruptly, wails and shrieks were produced as fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

_Shit. Perfect._His niece needed to be fed and changed and he would have to find a way to extract himself from the scenario in order find a clean bathroom to do so. Trapped, as Blair just stood there shell shocked.

"Uh well" He yelled "I have to go." He ran brushed his fingers through his hair quickly, "She needs to be fed and changed." Patting the polka-dot diaper bag beside him.

* * *

Everyone had something to show for the last ten years-even Cabbage Patch. He had a daughter. Of course it fit into every kind of future she might have guessed him to have by now but it was still a little bit shocking to be face to face with such a change in him as she was.

"Right, right" She agreed with a nod. Was she releasing him from the conversation so that he could change his daughter in a random unsanitary place? The Daniel Humphrey she had known ten years ago who still lived in Brooklyn without a doubt. She opened her mouth, going out on a limb with her suggestion but decidedly doing so anyway.

"My apartments just a few blocks from here," She gestured towards the Upper East Side. "I would rather you do whatever you have to do there instead of in a random bathroom wherever."

* * *

He stood, clasping Tal's hand, desperately trying to distract her from her tantrum. The suggestion had caught him off guard but he found himself happily accepting the offer. Never mind that he had no idea what he was doing, looking up briefly to smirk at Blair before dropping his gaze to Tal once more.

"Lead the way."

She turned triumphantly on her heels in the direction of her apartment, curls falling against her back.

Everything took on a surreal light but he knew that he couldn't possibly had thought up this outcome on his own-he wasn't that imaginative. But weaving through the streets with Blair Waldorf beside him sort of seemed like it ... even if it was entirely real.

* * *

**Author's Note: **A thousand thank-you's to the great response I've received so far, please keep it up! This story will be based mostly on the television series with elements of the books intertwined. Have a great day all you wonderful readers!


	3. Two things I'm sure of

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gossip Girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

take this time to realize  
that you always shut your eyes  
in the midst of trial  
and everything is always right  
and I think that it's time  
this battle must be won  
but you pushed it aside  
pushed it aside  
pretend that it's gone  
Take this time to realize  
that you always force a smile.  
**- Circle**

Chapter Three:

Cocking a nervous smile, Blair twirled towards Dan lifting her arms up to support the movement, meeting his eyes demurely. Quickly, she dropped her gaze to his daughter as she moved about in the carrier, about to break loose or whatever it was that babies did (or wanted to do.) Since their wordless journey from Central park to the elevator and into her apartment, Cabbage Patch had managed to cease her fussing long enough for Blair to hear her own thoughts again.

"Welcome to my home" She breathed.

Shoving her keychain into her purse she walked further into the foyer, dropping the bag and it's contents absentmindedly to the side, nudging at it with her foot until it hit the wall.

"Wow, n-nice." He was clearly impressed as any man of his social standing would seemingly be in her apartment and this fact proved to ease the tension. _Slightly._

"Well this isn't Brooklyn, _Brooklyn_" She teased, feeling the awkward pause as it set itself between them. _What was she doing!_ inviting Serena's ex flame over to her house? Crying child or not there was no excuse for someone like Daniel Humphrey to be gracing the threshold of her penthouse. She was all too aware that he seemed entirely out of place, unfitting upon entrance. Humphrey, she resolved to think, was like a tacky souvenir; only kept around for extreme sentimental value while standing out impossibly against her modern apartment with it's beautiful interior.

Then again who was she to ridicule or maim? The man standing before her had a life, a spouse and a resulting daughter, as the equation often went for successful adults. Something to show for himself even if it was covered in flannel shirts and spit up. That was definitely worth more to _some_ than the stainless steel appliances she kept in her masterful kitchen or the original Van Gogh hanging on her crimson dining room wall.

_I wish I had more to show for all these years, it just appears to be wasted time._

* * *

He stood , feeling rather uncouth behind Blair as she twisted the silver handle on a hand carved cedar wood front door and strode inside. His thumb was busy keeping Tallia contented as her warm saliva dripped down the sides, continuing to gnaw on him as if he were one of her toys. Unaware of the inelegent uncle she had been stuck with her tiny arms grasped his in absoulte delight.

Admitantly it had not been the most sanitary move, or the prettiest, but he couldn't get her to stop shrieking any other way and so while the elevator sped through floor after floor there had been no other option and so the secret weapon that was clapping and thumb chewing had begun. Screw rattles and pacifiers, he was the best babysitter/uncle ever! So resourceful and quick thinking, okay maybe not, desperate might be a better word but what was the harm in pretending like you knew what you were doing even if you didn't?

It's not like he was following an expert on children into her _extremely large apartment that was decidedly twice the size of his loft even at first glance_. Stepping back a little as Blair said something, twirled and continued further into the ... living room, foyer? Dropping her purse to the floor and kicking it off to the side she turned back to him, realizing after a moment that he was gaping and promptly snapped his lips shut. Displaying his utter awe of her "normal" penthouse across his features no doubt.

He was a bad liar, it took time to conceal his emotions, he often trusted too soon too fast and because of this habbit he was continuously having to remind himself who the Brunette standing in front of him was. The petite woman who appeared to be waiting. Wait, waiting for what? Was there something to be waiting for? Oh right. Words, conversation. Breaking out of the tailspin train of thoughts and quickly attempting to fill the air.

"So ... we probably have very little time before she starts freaking out again," He gestured to his niece and smirked shortly catching Blair's eye. An expression of fleeting of horror crossed through her eyes before the reaction was stifled and a long slim finger extended, motioning for him to follow.

* * *

"Right, the bathrooms down there. Do what you need to do" She hesitated, while standing in front of a long hallway with several rooms branching off and making up the opposite end of first floor. Compltely unsure of where to take the conversation or if that was all the instruction needed before he could be on his merry way.

"Great, I'll just-" He said "Go do that." Sidestepping past her timidly he walked into the bathroom he had been directed to.

Alone suddenly she turned up her hands to fumble with them, releasing a pent up breath. After a tiny debate between the proper action and what was probobly neccisary she marched the tiny distance from where she stood to where the bathroom door was shut, knocking loudly and clearing her throat for measure.

"Is there anything else you need?" Her voice was hard and questioning, with absoloutley no idea why she was prompting to extend Dan's visit.

"Not sure yet," His voice floated under the door and met her ears with uncertainty. Why did he sound so uncertain? it was his baby after all, maybe he was just one of those guys who couldn't survive without their wives, cute in the way they attempted to care for their children but so utterly clueless when it actually came down to it. She backed away from the door, quietly adding, "I'm just going to be in the living room when your ready."

Without waiting for a response she began down the hall, passsing by a mirror she stopped, turning her eyes the reflection. She smoothed her curls into absolute perfection, smacking her glossed lips together before inspecting her makeup for any change that might render her something less than what she had always appeared to be in Humphrey's mind._ Picture perfect_. Among other less appropriate and rudely unmentionable phrases that she need not remind herself of as he stood within reach of her manicured claws.

* * *

Two sinks, _two_. What was purpose of two sinks? Why couldn't people in Manhattan enjoy the act of brushing their teeth with their lovers, caught up in the playful aspect of the task and jokingly fight for the space. A congratulatory pearly white smile gracing ones features, basking in the glow of a fresh win having managed to spit their mouthful of toothpaste out before the other?

When it came to money, Dan had realized, people would separate and build walls, mesmerizing unbreakable ones just because they could afford to. They would distance themselves from what they once loved, and even in some cases their affection would turn to hatred out of pure boredom. Whatever happened in such loveless marriages? It could all start or end with a sink.

Unstrapping Tallia from his chest he allowed the carrier to fall to the floor as he held her in one arm and searched unknowingly through the bag for supplies. Upon finding what he could only assume to be a changing mat he turned in circles a few times wondering where exactly to change his neice. The tiled floor seemed to be the reasonable option. Restaurants at least had baby changing tables in the unisex washroom although the abrupt size of Jenny's tantrum if she'd ever find out was enough to provoke an involuntary grimace.

What she didn't know couldn't hurt her. _Anyway it didn't matter_ he chanted to himself while placing the mat in a corner. Him and Tallia were where they where and he couldn't just leave on a stupid platform of convenience. Laying Tallia down gently he resumed his dig in her bottomless diaper bag, _God how does Jenny pack these things? _He pondered; flexing his arm as he finally dropped the messenger bag to the ground beside him. A w_oman's got to have some strong arms for that aside from the fact that __I am__ entirely out of shape. Seriously._

Five minutes of agonizing later, he happened to find what he had been searching for, raising a singular diaper and bottle of baby powder from the polka dot bag as if the Holy Grail had just been stumbled upon. As expected, Tallia had been saving her breath in the park for a much larger meltdown. Probably due to some prematurely decided feeding and changing schedule that had just slipped Jenny's mind (or hadn't) and he just couldn't remember because he was stressed out, under worked and spent most of his time oblivious to anything other than his laptop.

"It's okay now see Tal? Uncle Dan found what he needed. Your tush is gonna be dry and warm in _no_ time!"

Working quickly he replaced her soiled diaper with a fresh one and shoved it to the bottom of a nearby wastebasket with immense guilt even though there had to be several other bathrooms and trash cans that Blair couldn't possibly have time enough to set foot just because she lived there.

Hopefully anyway.

* * *

The discordant hysterics had started shortly after she'd sat down in the living room and had diminished slightly but still not enough as Cabbage Patch appeared, an apologetic smile on his face. Against his chest his daughter moved about as he held her in efforts to comfort and ultimatley quiet her fit. Blair was captivated by the fact that such a small baby could create such demanding tantrums, by the size of her one would venture a guess that she she was only still a newborn.

It seemed uncharacteristic of the child created in the fantasy of Dan's life that had been formulated effortlessly. In her thoughts his daughter was quiet and laid back just like her father, observing but never demanding. However, that's why fantasies were called fantasies; due to the lacked presence of reality one would suppose.

"Uh, is she okay?"

"She's fine" He scratched at the scruff on his chin "she's fine. Just uhm hungry I think."

"Oh- I'll go get Dorota." She exclaimed loudly, jumping up from the cushions and jogging in the direction of the staircase in search of her beloved maid.

Peeking into several rooms before finding her in a guest bedroom fluffing pillows and pulling sheets taunt over a mattress, Blair was surprised that she hadn't made appearance earlier. Usually as soon as there was a rustling of footsteps unlike her employers quiet calculated feet she would appear quietly in the doorway, watching from afar. Certianly an unexpected visitor such as Mr. Dan would have brought Dorota out from the dark corner she normally managed to hide in.

"Dorota!"

"Yes Ms. Blair?" She chimed, beating the side of a goose down pillow with her fist.

"I need your help." Her voice cracked "My friend has his baby downstairs and I-I don't know what to do. I think she's hungry; what do I do?" Aggrivated she bit out her question, pleading in her eyes as her head began to throb, a migraine in the making.

"Oh ..." Dorota turned, her thin lips perched, "So ruckus was baby."

"Of course it was Dorota, I don't fuss like a newborn."She all but rolled her eyes at the simple presentation of Dorota's mind sometimes, wishing she'd hurry up with her explanation.

"He need microwave, show him microwave. He will know." _Amazingly useless information. _And with that she turned back to the task at hand, placing a quilt over the freshly laid linens.

Running as quietly as could be managed in heels down the stairs Blair flew across the foyer, finding herself in the midst of one crying baby and a grown man on the verge of tears. Overcome with the urge to say something cheesy like "I feel your pain, I bring solution" Instead she she slowed her pace, grabbing his arm firmly. Dragging Dan to the kitchen she backtracked to steady a fifty thousand pound diaper bag on her shoulder, determination in her movements.

"You need a microwave ... I have a microwave, Dan Humphrey meet my microwave!" She yelled, setting the bulky object on the island. Her words were coming out unusual, lined with sarcasm and humour. She stood, hand on her hip, expectant of Brooklyn to take charge of the situation. After a pregnant pause in which nothing was accomplished and nobody moved she exhaled heavily and drew the diaper bag near, thumbing through it's contents. _The babies cries were pulling steadily at her tattered sanity._

_Correction: All sanity had just flown out the window._

Unexpectantly she found herself revisiting a part of her brain she had never thought useful. Fishing a bottle of what could only be inferred to as breast milk (although this theory would _not_ be tested) out of the diaper bag she placed herself in front of the stove and tried to remember any reference to senerios, like the one she was experiencing, on television.

Hands froze over cold burners, her breathing hitched and then it hit her. A lost episode of "Party of five" was replaying in her mind and the inspiration had been found. Setting the bottle on the table she bent to pursue several cupboards before discovering a suitable pot. Filling it with cold water she threw it on a burner turning on the heat on as if she'd actually done this before and wasn't just mimicking a snippet of one late 90's melodrama.

Blair looked up at the overhead kitchen light before turning to press herself against the island as the milk heated itself up.

"Is that what your supposed to do?" She was curious as to whether or not she had dealt correctly with the situattion after leaving the silence up to the fussing baby for several un-interrupted minutes. Sitcom watching might actually have been a valid waste of time for once, not that she'd seen an episode of that show for years.

"Yeah I think so," He answered, attempting to draw his daughters attention away from her hunger while swaying back and forth. Adding "Yeah I'm sure it is. I'm sorry, she's just somewhat disorientating after a while when she's like this."

She offered a weak smile.

_He didn't know at first_?! Okay, she had heard of and even seen men who had no idea how to take care of their children without a significant other present but Cabbage Patch was definitely taking it a little bit too far. He'd have to learn how to take care of his daughter one way or another. It would be entirely unfair to shoulder the burdens of child rearing soley on his wife so much so that the thought almost infuriated her. Being clueless was cute but being dumbfounded and overly so was just ... _pathetic._

He'd started to move about in slow movements around the kitchen and down the hall, it seemed to calm the baby whom Blair realized she hadn't been introduced as of yet, and so went un-named in her thoughts. Although there wasn't complete silence there was enough to hear words without hollering like they were in some kind of barn, struggling to make conversation over all the animal noise. If she kept a journal, she smiled at the fact that today had started out as a one page routine entry and somehow changed into a ten page mess of something she could only attribute to fate.

* * *

Darkness was creeping over the city as he finally sat across from Blair at her dinner table in what appeared to be the dinning room of the spectacular penthouse (even though he'd only seen a few small portions of the first floor) With a painting hanging behind her curls that he was almost entirely certian could only be an original Picasso.

Tal was happily drinking the contents of her bottle in greedy gulps as he held it to her mouth, tilting her upwards in his arms. What had once presented itself as a chance to converse with an old high school classmate had somehow turned into a full hour and a half of frantic action in order to keep the small being in his care content. Astonished at how the situation had been taken care of by none other than the five foot brunette when he had found himself unable to take his mind off of one syllable words. Admitantly the killer cries had gotten to him, keeping his feet in place, unable to even speak while Waldorf of all people set to work doing the right thing.

"Picasso?" He inquired, his eyes glued to the canvas.

"Van Gogh" She replied flatly, rubbing at the spot where the breast milk had burned through the first layer of skin on her wrist.

_Stupid, stupid. How could I not have know that._

At a loss for words once more his eyes jumped from every piece of furniture that he could burn into his retinas in order to busy himself from the awkwardness.

Peals of laughed errupted.

"I haven't been introduced" She said through ruby lips.

"Oh right! Fuck."

_Officially an idiot, way to go Mr. Yale_

Clearing his throat he did his best to mimic that of a voice over actor,"Ms. or Mrs. Waldorf?" While skilfully extracting at least one useful piece of information.

"Miss" She giggled one more, allowing herself to play along.

"Ms. Waldorf" he corrected, a smile tugging at his lips as he continued, "I'd like to introduce you to Ms. Tallia Revarly Archibald-Humphrey."

* * *

Archibald-Humphrey? Not_ just_ Humphrey. Her eyes widened and her breath quickened slightly. Not that it was a large problem or anything it was just that she hadn't been expecting it. Cabbadge Patch _didn't_ have a wife or a dog (well, maybe a dog) bur he wasn't married .... and the baby in his arms wasn't flesh off his bones, directly anyway. And just like that the carefully constructed house of cards known as the life sje was _sure_ Dan Humphrey had (since she had found very little space in her assumptions for misconceptions on such a grand scale) came crashing to the floor.

"Archibald-Humphrey?" Blair parroted back coolly, hiding her surprise.

"I know, you must have thought she was my daughter" He stated, leaving the assumption up for debate.

She lied, it was out her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.

"No no, not at all." With a wave of her hand she dismissed that which she had thought to be the truth in whole, easier then she thought she would have.

"It's okay Blair, I didn't exactly say it right from the start."

"You shouldn't have to" She shot back, "It's none of my business."

He chuckled. "Considering the fact that you just saved a very shell shocked Uncle from the clasps of one very demanding Neice, I think it's some of your business now, whether you like it or not."

She beamed in spite of herself, she had indeed managed to do something so much out of character while still maintaining her cool (to an extent) that it was something she could laugh heartily at and the happiness would reach her eyes.

_Looks like I know what little Jenny and Nate have been up to, if ever a woman finds herself wondering that is ..._

Somehow after that the two old aqquaintances drifted into conversation. Excitedly voicing their opinions on a variety of subjects as if they were kids again without doubt that they would make impacts on the world somehow. Minutes turned into hours while both parties found themselves loosing track of time as Tallia fell into a peaceful slumber amidst playful chatter and debate.

* * *

Having left Blair's penthouse at a later hour then he would have expected, Dan made his way onto the street, a sense of comfort washing over him as Tal snuggled against his shoulder as she slept.

There were two things he was absoloutley sure of as he entered the subway tunnel, Blair's business card in his jean pocket.

1.) She wasn't as horrible/dreadful as he remembered her to be.

2.) He was going out for drinks with her in two days.

He didn't ponder what this meant, he felt the onset of a possible friendship with someone he would never have dreamt having one with years previous. It was an uncalculated, unexplained, adventure. And for once he was going to experience things without the negative criticizing writer flashing out. He would force himself to be Brooklyn, Cabbage patch even. But not Dan Humphrey New York Times Columnist for once in eight years.

Whatever that would be, whoever that would bring out.

He didn't care.

Who was Dan if not someone who followed that which fell in front of him? Even if that wasn't how he'd lived his life entirely up to that point he would start.

All signs were pointing to Blair Waldorf.

How ironic.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Gah. Can I just _say thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! _For all your reviews and support. I'm so happy that your enthusiastic about this story it helps me to write faster and not to mention it definitely makes me smile! Please take the time to drop me a review (if not I'm just happy you took the time to read!)


	4. Waldorfs dont wait

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gossip Girl just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

I've been changing your still waiting on me,  
just wait for me.  
Do you ever feel, do you ever feel?  
Your still waiting on me, never let go, never let go  
She said I'll never grow up.  
And I just can't forget about you  
You don't know what you do to me  
You don't know what your doing to me  
**- We change we wait**

Chapter Four:

Glancing up at the garage-type facility facing her, Blair checked her cell for the fourth time in five minutes. The institution in front of her had the appearance of several pieces of scrap metal being stapled, glued and taped together to form a type of shack from which blaring jazz was emerging. Once inside she spotted the bar and strode towards it confidently, her stiletto's clicking against the stone floor.

Being characteristically early as she was there was precious time to spare, mental time to prepare herself for the appearance of none other than Brooklyn boy. Also ample time for adjusting to spending hours in a packed club that she normally wouldn't step foot in. Sitting on a wooden bar-stool she squinted while her eyes took in the low grade lighting, setting her black clutch on the counter.

A muscular man who should have been guarding the door instead of serving drinks appeared in front of her moments later. The scowl on his face suggested he was thinking just about the same thing.

"What can I get ya?"

"A martini with a twist" She answered, snapping open her clutch, pulling a bill from her wallet and placing it on the counter under her palm, "And keep them coming."

The mass of muscle smiled briefly while slipping the money into his pocket, "No problem."

Just as the drink was set atop a napkin in front of her it occurred momentarily that it would be polite to wait for Dan. The thought barely grazing her reserve as the sweet glass met her lips. Blair Waldorf did not wait for anyone - people waited for Blair Waldorf.

* * *

"Jen listen, I've got to go." Cursing his watch he carefully piled things into his messenger bag while juggling the phone between his shoulder-blade and neck. Time had slipped away and if he didn't get his ass on the next subway uptown he'd be late.

_4, 3, 2 _"Do you suddenly have some place to go now?" she asked bitterly, taking a break from the last (however long) of constant complaints.

"I don't have time for this, I'll talk to you later." Hanging up without a second thought Dan rushed out the door. Fumbling to button up his jacket, skipping down the stairs. The brisk night air greeted him while he twisted a wool scarf tightly around his neck and hurriedly made his way to the subway entrance.

Leaning against a pole he thumbed his blackberry, watching the tunnel lights pass and fade in the distance, grudgingly looking through his contacts. Finding the number in question he pressed the phone to his ear and bit his lip gently in anticipation. Having had accepted that he would be late and thus remembering that if you were going to be late under any circumstances where Blair was involved, it was best to call ahead and assure her that she didn't need to spit fire or take any innocent villagers hostage just yet. _Some things you can just count on..._

"Hello?" A cheery woman answered; the complete opposite of any tone Blair might use. Checking the screen to make sure the right number was displayed, _yep calling Blair Waldorf. _His eyebrows raised in confusion as the woman continued, "Hello? Listen buddy ..."

"Blair? Blair, it's Dan" He could barely hear her above the clambering noise mixed with jazz. No doubt she was at the club he had suggested and wasn't in fact planning to stand him up as he might have worried earlier.

"OH HUMPHREY!" She screeched in recognition, "Where are you?"

"I'm on the subway-"

"The subway? Gross."

It was quite obvious that she had been drinking. A lot. Hiccuping through her sentences and slurring her words.

"I'll be there soon, I'm going to be a little bit late though."

"Well I'm here so hurry the fuck up," It was a demand between giggles before she hung up.

_Great. _He should have shown up earlier sometime before Blair had gotten within earshot of a bar. It filled him with worry at the thought of her in a club overflowing with the types of people she had never really given any thought to. Artists and musicians surrounding her and talking her into handing over her purse ...

He had worked himself into a frenzy by the time the subway slowed to a crawl at his stop. Pushing through crowds of people to reach his destination before she got the _bright_ idea (induced by alcohol) that she didn't have to stay anywhere for him and would proceed to leave.

* * *

"Your sooooo funnnyy Timm!" She hiccuped, a tall blonde man leaning in closer, he smelt of liquor. Her new favourite smell. She playfully pushed his shoulder while crushing herself against the counter behind her.

"It's Adam" He purred in her ear, a bulky hand falling onto her thigh.

"I've been talkin-g to youu forr ohh a while noow I thinkk I know whatt yourr stupidd name iss Tomm" She spat, taking another longer sip of her martini.

Tim, Tom, Adam. It didn't matter anyway. He looked to be an artist of some kind, his jeans were paint splattered, his hair uncombed and standing on end. No matter who he was there was no doubt that when he found out who_ exactly_ he was attempting to seduce he'd gladly wear a dog collar and go by Woofs if she wanted. Not that she'd actually call a poor dog Woofs, Spot, or anything ridiculous like that but if he kept getting gradually closer to her she might be tempted to. At the very least pretend like she would ifthings progressed any further and they suddenly found themselves leaving together. She giggled uncontrollably at this thought.

It had taken three martini's for her to begin eating the seasoned nuts on the counter. Two more and she had jumped up to dance to the smooth saxophone as if she'd been doing such things all her life. By the eighth she had become increasingly annoyed by her hair which laid in a bun on the top of her head and so her curls were undone. Falling around her shoulders as the bobby-pins thrown into her purse carelessly. The drink count had been utterly lost by the time Tim, Tom, Adam? Had found her. He had been droning on about something so insouciant that she was ninety-nine percent sure she would have burst out crying already had there not been music to drown out the majority of his conversation.

The nameless man's hand was slidding up her leg just as she spotted Brooklyn running in the front door, stopping two paces inside and scanning the crowd. He looked almost frantic. Blair's ruby lips twisted into a broad grin as his eyes fell on her, a ewly formed scowl on his flushed face, assumably because of Tim, Tom, Adam, aka. Guy who smelt of liquor and was growing closer to her face by the second. Not like it mattered anymore.

Cabbage patch had arrived.

* * *

No sooner than when he'd walked into the club did he see her, sitting at the bar in skinny jeans and a flowing turquoise top. Some Blonde haired man was getting gradually closer to her face as his lips moved, it was as though he was trying but evidently failing at keeping her interest. She pulled away from his gaze just as her brown eyes met his, a smile twisted her lips upward as she took a small sip of her martini while slipping away from the guy who had since noticed another man's presence.

He stopped short a few feet away, Blair looked amazing in the orange and deep yellow light, her curls falling all around her shoulders, and he wanted to retain the sight before him even if she was incredibly drunk. The woman in front of him with her radiant lips and eggshell skin was enough to promptly erase every other picture of her in his mind before then.

"Brooklyn!" Stumbling backwards as she catapulted herself into his arms, the sickeningly sweet perfume entangled with strong alcohol met his nose forcefully. Her arms slinked around his neck and her legs wrapped around his thighs, a singular curl tickling his cheek. Dan glared steadily at the man who she had been talking to minutes earlier, having sensed the change in atmosphere he stalked off to a group of identicals with the same sandy blonde hair and muscular physic. His knuckles ached to to make contact with the idiot's face, instead he concentrated on Blair's perfume, inhaling deeply.

Unclasping her hold on him, he guided her back to the bar-stool she had been situated at with a protective arm.

"Hey Blair" She plunked herself onto the stool, leaning away as if about to fall before steadying herself. Her smile downgraded to an unhappily curious pout, like a child who was being scorned but didn't exactly understand their wrong doing. In seconds she'd gone from absolutely ecstatic to shamefully angry. His brow furrowed, it was only nine-thirty.

"So" He took a seat next to her, ordering a beer from the bartender before twisting to converse with her, "What have you been up to?"

"Ohh you know ..." Slamming her empty glass on the bar, "tthiss and that." Apparently_ this_ and _that _included men; blonde men, like the one who was currently standing as far away from the bar as he could get, probably making away with the assumption that Dan was her boyfriend.

Noticing this he leaned in a little closer to her, intentionally fuelling that idea should the guy look over any time soon. No good would come out of the truth being exposed for the man had seemed pretty bent on getting her in his bed before the night were over. Dan took an elongated gulp of the beer that had been placed in front of him - willing some of the anger away.

"You're llate I- I waitted youu knoww." Her words were scarcely audible over the band as they strummed away.

"I called." _Obviously you don't remember that._

"Oh Dan" She exclaimed eagerly, "Dan!" Her jeweled hand was waving in front of his face while the other hand squeezed his fist with more force than any girl her size should be capable of possessing for the good of man kind.

"What?" Managing to loosen her grip, he rid himself of it all together as she turned to face the counter while he stretched out his aching fingers.

"My drinnk" She hiccuped, "Doess thiss really funny thinng ssee?" Gesturing towards her once empty glass which had been filled with freshly mixed vodka, he cocked an eyebrow suspiciously. "It'ss magicall." _Magical ... or paid to be that way. _

He felt fury rising in his veins.

"Lets get out of here okay?" He whispered firmly into her ear, "We'll go back to my loft, it's not far. " Under normal circumstances he wouldn't dare to invite her over to his dirty apartment but there was no way he was leaving her alone, now or at a later hour, in the club or in a taxi headed for her penthouse.

She was too intoxicated to carry a conversation and this alone would have annoyed him had it been anyone but who it was. Thinking about it, it should have annoyed him_ more_ because of who she was but none the less he waited a moment after this realization but no such feelings aside from the fury washed over him.

"No, I don't likke subwayss their gross."

"Then we won't take the subway."

"You mean we can not," She paused "Not, take the subway?" She bent over the counter, flashing her mouth in a peal of laughter, an index finger tracing the top of her glass in amusement.

Nope. He definitely wasn't leaving her anywhere. She was coming with him whether she wanted to or not. End of story.

"Okay time to go," He pulled her up as she threw her hands up in the air, "Let's get your jacket."

"But I'mm havingg fun," She defended while he grabbed her coat off the back of the chair.

"We are going," He articulated firmly, grateful that she was keeping silent while he helped her don her coat and allowed him to support her walk from the bar to the sidewalk outside.

He left her side to hail a cab, a shrill whistling sound escaping his lips. She took this opportunity of momentary freedom to dance about him in circles and sways, watching out of the corner of his eye, bewildered at how she managed to stay on both feet without breaking an extremely pointy heel, twisting an ankle or even both under the circumstances.

As if he could predict the future or she could read his thoughts one moment she was hoping about and the next she was flat on her back in the middle of the concrete laughing hysterically with her hands extended at the elbow and her face pointing towards the entrance of the club.

_How many martinis could a Waldorf gulp if a Waldorf could gulp martinis?_ He chided to himself as she pulled herself up by way of his leg and then his coat lapels.

More than five; upwards of a solid eight to ten.

* * *

She was utterly perplexed at where she was and where exactly she was going and even how whe'd gotten into the cab that was now speeding through the dark streets but she found that she didn't mind. Her foot hurt sort of .... a big hurt, a _really _big hurt and that was definatley something that mattered. Reaching down to rub the pain her fingers made contact with the throbbing flesh, recoiling immediately.

"Myy foot hurrts" She wailed, turning to face the city as it passed by the window.

"I'll look at it when we get there" came a voice from the far corner, a very familiar voice.

Panic captivated her before she remembered - Brooklyn boy. He wouldn't hurt her and so all was safe. With a yawn she gathered her tangled hair into a ponytail tying it to the nape of her neck. She was exhausted and wanted to sleep, right there in a dirty cab. Maybe they weren't as bad as she had thought, as far as could be told from the neon squares of light that passed over her body she wasn't brown with dirt or anything.

"Oh okay" She whispered, "Thankss Cabbage Pattch."

She set her head down on his lap, attempting to curl into as small a ball as could be managed in the backseat. His eyes grew wide before he settled on a bemused expression, a crooked smile adjusting itself to his lips. She turned into his stomach, stretching her arms in front of her, not as comfortable as she would have liked but it was enough.

"I'm just gonna lay down for a minute."

her voice dropped lower and lower as she nuzzled further and further into the lining of his corduroy jacket. He smelt of newspapers and peppermint and she began to think that maybe he wasn't as dirty as she had once thought him to be. The night was shaping up to be a night of revelations, first about city cabs, and secondly, Brooklyn boy himself.

She resolved that his smell was to be her favorite as opposed to the stench of disgusting liquor. With uncertainty she pondered whether it was Dan's hand that was stroking her hair or if it was wind blowing in from the open window but either way it felt nice. She had found relaxation in the safe arms of a man who wasn't more concerned with himself, his hair or mirrors, than with his girlfriend.

The stars stood like beakons in the dark night sky, shining jewels of brilliance as two unlikely aqquaintances found a common ground upon which to stand together. Almost as if it had been waiting for discovery longer than a few short days.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay there it is ... the big drinks scene! Hope you liked it. Again ... THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU for all your reviews/subscriptions and reads! I'm really happy people like this story as much as I like to write it. Please drop me a review if you have some time and if not thanks for the read (:


	5. Freedom loves coffee

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

The lights the praise  
The curtain calls  
And the big parade  
You know that life all too well  
The promise the pain  
The valour the rage  
Hold up your hands  
For the bow and the wave  
You throw yourself into their arms  
**- Where there's gold ...**

Chapter Five:

"Chuck move over, I'm almost off the bed" Blair commanded while stifling a yawn, tucking her head into the crook of his neck with a content sigh.

"Mmmm, I've been called a few things … never Chuck." The man whose chest her body was pressed up against mumbled before dozing off once more.

Her eased smile quickly turned into a worrisome yelp, scrambling to push herself into a sitting position. Widened chocolate brown cast down in assessment of the (fully clothed) figure of Brooklyn, classic plaid shirt and all as he lay on his back, cheek pressed up against his elbow, blissfully unaware of her reaction to his presence.

"Humphrey?" She inquired, nudging him gently with her index finger as he stirred, "Dan!" she exclaimed after brief silence, pulling the dark blue top sheet closer to her. His eyes flickered open, rising to meet her gaze, smirking while rubbing his elbow against his mouth, eyes still heavy with sleep. Feeling the intensity of the situation but not fully gravitating within it as Blair was.

"Oh hey – I mean, morning" He offered at the continuance of an uncomfortable glance in his direction, "How's your head?"

Automatically her hand reached to rest on the side of her head, mimicking his gesture as she picked at the duvet; her eyes trained on the couch while focusing momentarily on his question. The ache as far as she could piece together, was a delayed gift from the previous night which had somehow landed her in Humphrey's loft. Assumably anyway, glancing around to provide supporting evidence for her theory as her irises met Cabbage Patch's slightly less sleep consumed expression. Still brimming with questions however where she could create no answers.

"It hurts."

He chuckled lightly and she found herself placing a palm on his shoulder, pushing him playfully as he swayed to the side and back again.

"Figured as much, want some coffee?"

"Please" She groaned in response, all too excited at the prospect of such things, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap awaiting instruction obediently.

He padded over to the kitchen on the other side of the apartment, fumbling through a few cupboards before retrieving a filter and placing it into the coffee maker next to the fridge. Turning back to face Blair he trailed back to where she was situated on his bed, falling backwards into a chair.

"So … " She began nervously, "What happened last night? Wait - do I even want to know?"

"That depends" He said, "how comfortable would you be with reading it in the paper first?"

Her eyes widened. The paper, no. She _could not _have made any type of news outlet, however muddled her actions seemed to be. At least not the New York Times one would think … _hopefully_. Something less read and easily discarded from every store/news stand/vendor in the city if she hurried however ...

"Relax Blair I'm just kidding, you won't need to plan any gigantic newspaper heists today."

"Dan! That was horrid of you" She gasped. "For a full seven seconds I wasn't sure if you were serious or not. You can't joke with me like that!" it was a discordant whine, "I actually grace the society pages every now and again."

"Every now and again? I may be a Humphrey and this definitely is Brooklyn but that doesn't mean we don't read or perhaps write for the newspapers your face is plastered all over."

"Plaster is a distasteful word - I prefer occasionally," she retorted casually with a firm nod.

"Call it whatever you want but I'd still say that your the poster child of upper crust society even still."

"Do you ever get tired of yourself?" She laughed.

"Should I?"

"Well considering you just insinuated that my life is like a pastry ..."

"Please don't take my food away miss, I didn't mean it I didn't!" He cried dramatically in a British accent, looking upon her in mock horror. "I'll be good I promise, so good you won't even think it."

She was grinning ear to ear as she grabbed a national geographic off the bedside table and flung it towards him. Narrowly missing his head as he ducked just in time to escape her wrath. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt.

Even in the midst of a chaotic loft somewhere in the "lower crust" of New York City she was having fun. Not that it was deemed impossible anymore; the only unfathomable part of the entire escapade was the identity of the man she was spending it with. In her Manhattan apartment he was out of place, away from his element, but there, among his territory he was at home. Fitting perfectly into everything with a subconscious stream of pride.

Due to an offhand design flaw (from Blair's standpoint anyway) a large king sized bed was left pressed against the right half of a brick wall interior that extended three fourths of the way around. Giving way to tile in the kitchen and frosted glass blocks around the large stable sized door she faintly remembered falling into last night. There was a couch, a small TV, a work space pushed up behind the couch and against the window which extended halfway up all along the south wall. Showcasing a scenic view of the rooftops of several other Brooklyn flats in the area. Another design flaw twisted into a larger space, where try as she might, Blair couldn't strain her body upwards and over enough from her situation on the bed to sneak a peek. There was a small hallway venturing off into a closed room which adorned the same door as the entry-way and directly across, facing the half glass window, there looked to be a small bathroom.

It felt almost strange, the way she felt at home in his apartment. The difference in lifestyle and appearance was astounding yet she didn't feel awkward or out of place, like something that didn't belong. Years ago she wouldn't have allowed the point of her heel to grace the seemingly dusty hardwood but now, maybe with the new-found talent of adaptability that came with age, she simply felt calm.

"Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me with your antics, what happened last night?"

"Oh nothing much when I got there, but if you'd left with that blonde guy I can venture a guess at seeing one of_ those_ photo's on news stands this morning," He answered with a smug grin.

"Har har har very funny."

_Blonde guy … what blonde guy?_ She racked her brain for any memory of the man that had been mentioned as Cabbage patch had busied himself once more with preparing two mugs of coffee in the kitchen. Could she have run into Hansen at the jazz club, gotten into some kind of fight with him and left unknowingly on Brooklyn's arm?

Carefully placing a filled mug on the nightstand Dan walked turned back to the den in search of his computer before resuming his position across from Blair.

* * *

Balancing the laptop on his knees as the cup of coffee met his lips, he quickly skimmed the contents of his email in-box as Waldorf thumbed through his dog earred copy of Keats.

_Editor - ignore  
Publisher - reply?  
2nd email from editor - ignore  
3rd email from editor - delete  
Not important - delete  
Not important - delete_

He sighed, it was useless. He wanted to throw his laptop out the window and watch it smash into a million pieces - what a sense of satisfaction that would grant him. Unfortunately due to his choice of careers, staring at a blank screen all day was the money-maker. Not that the screen was always blank - just as of late ... snapping it shut he placed it gently on the hardwood at his feet, pulling his feet to his chest, observing Blair.

Her hair trailed down her back in what seemed like one long knot, lips adorned by a thin layer of chap stick that shimmered slightly in the murky light. She was wearing a pair of his blue pyjama bottoms with a red shirt (upon her request) that engulfed her tiny frame and gave her a childlike appearance. The outfit and heels she'd gracefully worn around the Jazz club and up the flights of stairs to his loft (completely obliterated) were off to the side, neatly folded on the arm of the couch.

Biting her nail as she turned pages, a frown of concentration graced her features. He almost felt like laughing obnoxiously at the sight. She was normal after all. If you took away the clothes and the shoes, the makeup and the jewelry. Looking at her one _might_ guess she was straight from his side of town as opposed to being born on a golden platter in another universe. Funny what material things made us ... odd how time changed even those who had once seemed unable to step outside of their surroundings.

He shook his head, emptying it of the new-found ideal. _You barely know her _he reminded himself, however difficult it seemed to wrap thoughts around that statement. She had always seemed the kind that you would never have to re-learn acquaintance with. Too shallow and scheming to broaden her personality or interests however she couldn't really be blamed even if she was the same person. Imagine spending your entire life having everything handed to you just as you were, how would you ever know that it wasn't the right way to be?

He couldn't put his finger on it but something about her had changed. It was slightly intriguing to think of what exactly made him feel that way as he looked at her but the idea remained concrete.

"So uh, I'd offer you some food but I don't really have anything here ..." He said diffidently, breaking the easy silence.

"Actually if you want, I was thinking I could take you to breakfast" she replied, glancing up from the page she was on, "If you're not busy."

"Oh uhm no, I'm not busy." _I guess this is what friends do, have breakfast together? Right. I go to meals with other friends ... it's no different just because it's Blair._

Her lips formed a tiny smile before she stood up, stretching her limbs out as she walked towards the couch.

"Perfect! I just need to freshen up." She gathered her clothes.

"Right, bathrooms over -"

"There, I know. I can see it Dan." With that she strode over to the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her.

* * *

The dull ache had turned into a screeching orchestra of pots and pans and she shut her eyes tightly against it. Attempting to prepare herself for the sight she would find once enough courage was mustered up to look in the mirror. Gradually opening her left eye her right followed quickly thereafter, determined. Cupping a hand firmly over her lips she screamed, the noise disclosed by the small space, taking in the sight of her hair and complexion sans makeup. It was as though she was some kind of wild animal, only missing a few black smudges of mud on her cheeks and some twigs sticking out of what used to resemble hair.

Struggling to find calm she leaned up against the sink, reasoning with herself. After all it was only Brooklyn, it's not like it was someone who actually cared right? No matter how much she tried to convince herself of the unimportance that was his opinion, the feeling of stupidity that came with unknowingly looking like a forest monster could not be shaken as she washed her face and searched the cabinet for some toothpaste. Flicking a dab of Colgate on her finger she brushed her teeth with a clean index finger.

After zipping up her jeans and adjusting her top, the entire outfit from last night, she twisted to the mirror once more, fastening the necklace she had worn earlier to her throat. Her saliva tasted minty and she smelt faintly of cologne (thanks to a sample bottle found via medicine cabinet.) Her curls, turned rowdy frizz, were pulled into a messy bun courtesy of the bobby pins that had been carried around in her clutch since a charity event she had hosted weeks prior.

_It's fine. Whatever. I'll just tell him I want to go to a diner here. Some restaurant where nobody will recognize me. _She felt a twitch of delight and pride walking out of the bathroom. Maybe it was because she felt sexy in the outfit she was wearing, breaking the cardinal rule of fashion by wearing it twice, or maybe it was because she free to be Blair Waldorf from Brooklyn if even just for the afternoon.

If you had asked she wouldn't even have known the answer herself.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay with eating here?We can go somewhere else ..." It was only polite to ask. Once they'd stepped into the cafe down the street he had noted that her face had taken on a bewildered look. She seemed ready to bolt by the time they had taken their seats in a tattered booth, remaining in her place which he guessed was probably an old practice for a woman of her social stature by now.

"No no I'm fine, this is great" she mumbled approvingly, distracting herself with the task of choosing an item off of the plastic encased menu.

Shrugging he returned his attention to watching the street as people passed. He spent so much time in that particular cafe that there was no need for a menu, it's contents had been memorized long ago. The hum of customers and utensils clashing against porcelain plates became the backboard of conversation before a waitress came around and dutifully took their orders, later disappearing behind the counter.

He was fidgiting with his hands, placing them on the table as she checked her phone. He wanted to fill the air with words but each time he thought of something to say he obsessed over it until it dwindled to nothing and was forgotten. In a more formal setting the pressure was on him to impress her, okay, maybe he was pressuring himself -but either way it was keeping the conversation to a minimum which had begun to get irritating.

"Do you come here often?" _._

"Almost every day. Sorry if it isn't" he paused to taking a small sip of water, "what your used to."

"Don't be stupid I like it." She sounded hesitant "It's very cozy."

"That's why you look shell shocked."

"I do not look shell shocked!" she retorted with a pout, "it's just busy and ..."

"Sure sure."

"Cabbage patch don't make me hit you!" She threatened, smiling.

He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender, a narrow smirk forming on his lips.

"Anyway _Ms. Waldorf_, is your head any better?"

"A bit. Thank you _Mr. Humphrey_" she challenged.

"Can I ask you something?" he inquired, suddenly turning away from the silly banter.

* * *

"Depends on what you want to know" She responded, a twinge of dare in her voice. Enough of a reply for Dan to take a moment to assess what his next move should be.

"You called me Chuck this morning, are you still dating?" There was a breif pause followed by a rush of words she had to concentrate hard on hearing. "Because if you are, wow. That's really amazing, ten years is a long time especially with a Bass."

Each muscle in her body contracted seperatley, her mouth agape._ I said Chuck? Oh my God. _A lie sat on her tongue waiting to be released but looking into his eyes she couldn't, swallowing hard. He was simply curious, even more so than she, having not mentioned the basshole in any situation for such a long time it seemed unnatural that he come up in conversation any more.

Then she remembered; _Chuck and Blair_. The two childhood friends who were meant to be together but had resisted until the end of high school. A boy meets girl, boy loves girl, boy won't admit he loves girl, girl loves boy, at high school graduation boy admits he loves girl, story. Not necessarily a pro-type but not entirely original either.

"No. I must have been dreaming about him or something, I sometimes do that. We broke up ages ago, I think he lives in Morocco with a slew of international supermodels now." Clearing her throat awkwardly at the memory she heard the squeak of leather as Brooklyn shifted against the booth cushion.

"Are you dating anyone right now?" She questioned, trying to take the intensity out of their conversation. Besides she was a little curious.

"I was but it just didn't work out. My personal life and my work don't like to be mixed." Just as she wondered what that meant it was clarified, "She was my editor, well actually, still is." _Interesting._

He had given her a rope and she intended to run with it, eager to obtain more information on his past relationship.

"Oh," the word was light and breezy "What's her name?"

He was spinning his blackberry on the table staring at the salt shaker as he spoke.

"Bethany - Beth for short."

"What a pretty name."

"Enough about me," He cut her off with ebullience and quite rudely to be honest, "What about you?" But she understood, these conversations were ones people generally didn't like having.

And with that question Hansen was back in her thoughts, _squeezing himself next to her in a booth in Brooklyn._

The waitress re-appeared just as her phone vibrated. She ignored the call, glancing hungrily at the plate containing greasy grilled cheese and golden fries as it was set in front of her. Looking over at Dan's pasta while spearing a fry with her fork and shoving it into her mouth. Savouring the taste she swallowed and reluctantly allowed herself to answer his question.

"I'm dating Hansen Marls" Was the answer, "And he's a_ major_ pain in the ass." She felt better having elaborated in that way and was filled with the urge to repeat herself over and over again but stopped short at once, not wanting to annoy Dan with an unexplained outburst of _"Hansen Marls can kiss my ass!"_at the top of her lungs. No matter how much she wanted to.

Being in Brooklyn across the table from one Daniel Humphrey was relaxing, and this was decidedly great.

_Fantastic_ even.

* * *

**Authors Note: F**or those readers waiting for romance, it'll come! Once again thanks for all your support and subscriptions, it's really motivating (: Please take the time to review if you can and if not, thanks for the read!


	6. Check Please!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip Girl just the specific world I chose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

I just feel complete when your by my side  
And don't you dare say we can just be friends  
I'm not some boy that you can sway  
We knew it'd happen eventually  
**- If it means a lot to you**

Chapter Six:

"So who is it?"

"What?"

"Who's the girl?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dan replied lethargically, sidestepping a woman before meeting his friends pace once again as they strolled down the street.

He had gone for a brief meeting with Beth and a few executives at the publishing company. After a good hour of immediate confrontation (in which he had managed to escape answering almost every question) he'd met up with an old friend from Yale and they had since spent their time wandering without direction downtown.

"Almost five blocks and you haven't said a word" Stephen hummed, stuffing his hands into his pocket as he talked ,"So who's the girl?"

Dan sighed. He had tried not to think about everything in the days since they'd last seen each other but this was done without success. Catching himself wondering about her as often as he remembered to congratulate himself when he wasn't.

"She's just a friend, an old high school classmate."

"Blast from the past."

"I guess you could say that."

"Well," Stephen probed, entirely unfamiliar within the aspect of urging his friend for basic knowledge on recent conquests, "Does she have a name?"

"Blair" He paused, not wanting to sound too involved, "Blair Waldorf."

"Nope, don't think I know her."

"Of course you don't, you're from Boston" He joked as they stepped into a small café.

"Boston Shmoshten" The excuse was dismissed as he hung his coat on the wooden rack by the door. Choosing a table by the window he glanced back at Dan doing the same, "Spill."

"There isn't much to say..."

"Gasp! What's this?" Stephen exclaimed, "You have nothing to say? She must be special."

"You're mocking me" He rolled his eyes smirking as Stephen's eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open.

"Well I never…"

"Are we getting coffee or are you just going to harass me until I tell you about it?" It was a legitimate question and he desperately wanted coffee so it was best to know how things were going to go before he set his sites too eagerly on not being interrogated before he got his hands on a full cup of bliss.

Cupping his chin with a thumb and forefinger, Stephen considered the question, pushing his hair back with the other arm.

"First one and then the other I'd think, or maybe both at the same time, maybe neither in the long run. Who knows. Only time and a barista will tell."

_Actors._Dan scoffed raising his hand to get the attention of the slender waitress as she ran between the kitchen and the dinning room in a flurry of apron and blonde hair. grumbling in Stephens's direction "Always so dramatic."

Although their friendship was seemingly normal it was everything but. They had met innocently enough; paired up on some forgotten project for a creative writing course but what resulted from a flimsy two week deadline was a lasting friendship.

Stephen lived in Boston part time and New York the other. He sublet places as seen fit, attempting to get his foot in the acting door or ass in the director's chair, anything really that involved the film industry. He was hungry and driven and the determination that had fuelled him at 19 had yet to extinguish itself a handful of years later.

He was of medium build with long muscular arms and pale skin, a nose spotted with freckles. Hands that were soft and supple (no doubt the product of a strict moisturizing schedule) and and thick graceful legs. He wore on that particular day a black long sleeve turtleneck and a pair of dark denim jeans.

His eyes were emerald and his lips thin, a thick layer of sandy blond hair covering his head in soft wisps' curving to the right. His chest was vast, his laugh deep and he wasted no time keeping sarcasm a part of his day to day life.

He was Dan's brother in almost all aspects; both Rufus and Jenny adored him. It was a slight "bromance" only with conversations spanning from literature to movies and evenings spent at local theatres instead of in strip clubs and on women.

After ordering two lattes with accompanying chocolate dipped biscotti's, Stephen glared at his friend, strumming his fingers on the table as he waited for the details. The look on Dan's face implied nothing of importance but the gleam in his eyes established what Stephen already suspected, this girl was no small talk.

"What? I already told you there's nothing to say."

"And did I mention that I don't believe you?"

"I have a high school reunion coming up. It's in a few days; I have no idea what I'm going to wear. I don't think I own a suit … do I own a suit?" Dan muttered quietly, "No I don't think I do, could I borrow one of yours?" He asked, an attempt to change the subject of conversation.

"Sure, so about this girl…" It was no use.

He relented upon the realization that there was no reason not to tell Stephen and began, surprised at how much less of a story it was when said out loud.

"Well as I mentioned earlier her names Blair Waldorf. We were enemies in high school I guess you could say, but I put up with her because she was Serena's best friend-"

Stephen quickly intercepted as he rested his head on the back wall of another chair, "Van Der Woodsen?"

"One in the same" He agreed quickly, "They were best friends. Anyway - where was I? Oh yeah, well we collaborated on a few things back in the day but other than that, for the most part of the two years I really got to know her, she was_ intensely_ involved with Chuck Bass and well, I was involved with Serena. We disliked each other and that was about the only thing we had in common."

"Now when you say Chuck Bass you mean Chuck Bass of _Bass industries_yes?" Stephen inquired. He knew full well a few of the characters that played themselves out in the explanation, Serena Van Der Woodsen from personal acquaintance and Chuck Bass from obvious fame.

"Mhm."

"Interesting, so how'd you meet again?"

He went through the past few days in entirety as they dipped pieces of biscotti into their lattes, ate and laughed. Stephen, always the great listener, interrupted constantly with curious questions and offhand remarks of interest.

Once the story had been drawn to a conclusion Dan he quietly sampled what was left of his of latte as Stephen made clear his opinion based on the information he had been informed given.

"Maybe being friends with her isn't a bad idea."

"I never really said it was," Was his response, shuffling his feet under the table, "I'm just not sure …"

"You're not in high school anymore."

"I think I'm starting to have other feelings for her" It sounded so ridiculous, "I can't say I don't - there's something there."

Stephen reached across the table and slapped his friend on the shoulder in a congratulatory gesture, "Then go for it." The statement was reassuring as if the answer were evident and simple.

"What am I even saying? I don't know her." he said, "She's dating someone and I don't even know her" unaware that he was repeating himself, "I'm being stupid."

"Get to know her then."

"I want to, I'm just - I haven't spent much time with her and already I'm starting to have feelings for her. The more time I spend with her the easier it'll be to love her."

"Okay _now_ you're being stupid."

"It's complicated; I don't know how to react, she's not the Blair I used to know."

"I think she's thinking the same thing about you" Stephen countered, resting an elbow on the table and signalling for the check.

* * *

Jenny growled, curling towards the wall, struggling to escape from the sheets she shot up. Blonde hair stiff with product and jagged from being being slept on. What makeup that had been left on her face stained her lips and covered her complexion in long colourful smears. Try as she might she could cry no longer, her cheeks were sticky and flushed with her own tears and the effort it took to expel them.

There was no need to glance at the left side of the bed, she was teetering on the impression of his body that had been left on the mattress, it was empty and Nate was gone. Moving to the edge of the bed she reached for a robe that hung on the back of a chair, dropping it onto her shoulders she used the chair to get up, tying the silken belt around her waist before padding into the living room and down the staircase.

In the weeks since Tallia had spent some quality time with her Uncle Dan, things had progressively gotten worse. The only thing seemingly keeping their five year marriage in tact was the existence of their daughter at this point. And Jen didn't know how to feel about this, whether it was supposed to produce venom, or understanding that it had been a long time coming. Upon entering the kitchen she opened the fridge, grabbing a container of orange juice and setting it on the counter while she searched the overhead cupboard for a glass.

No, she definitely wasn't expected to understand that it had been a long time coming because it had been anything but. Thinking back to their courtship, their wedding, and the years of their marriage, the only emotions she could stir from those monuments were ones of elation and joy-love. There was no sense to be made of anything, the marriage she had then didn't translate in any way to the co-operative living situation she was fighting to keep together. They were on separate continents. Their baby daughter the only ship sailing back and forth between the two.

Settling into a dinning room chair she plucked a fresh scone from the centerpiece and began nibbling. Straighting out the fashion section of the New York Times, skimming an article on fashion week. The faint cry of Tallia interrupted the narrative words of the writer as she grumbled, stumbling out of the chair, placing the paper on the glass before making her way to the staircase. Less than half way up the shrieks turned into peals of laughter and she strained to hear a lullaby being sweetly sung in polish. Turning sharply she trailed her previous steps to the dinning room, plunking into the chair and resuming the article she had been enjoying while finishing up her breakfast.

The new nanny was getting a raise.

* * *

"Babe, there's no soap in here."

Pivoting towards the master bathroom, prying her eyes off of the closet briefly, her response lined with daggers,"There should be-look under the sink." Returning her gaze to the belt rack in front of her, striving to center a minuscule portion of concentration on which would go better with the outfit she had already assembled that laid undisturbed on the bedspread.

Lonely boy's face had been the constant thought on her mind for the duration of the day, having gone over his words, picking apart the meanings with tricky fingers all day. Every time she thought of his hand on hers, or his laugh, a grin fell on her lips so wide that her cheeks ached with the movement. Hansen had arrived on her doorstep late the previous night, sober and exhausted. It had taken Blair an entire sleepless night to hide the beam on her lips by morning.

Having not seen Cabbage Patch in a matter of days she had allowed herself to come out of the sweet denial she was basking in and accept that she had missed him and liked being in his company. As a friend of course and nothing more. How could she be anything more than friends with him? Did she want to be? No. Of course not. They didn't belong together. Yes of course she had fun with him but he wasn't Hansen Marls. Hansen was the one who she loved, despite the tiny pull of a fading hatred, cultivated whenever he wasn't around and on some photo shoot in a random foreign country.

She kept thinking of Brooklyn's smell, strong peppermint and something else she couldn't recall. His loft, with it's big windows and it's quaint ... wait. What was she _thinking? _Nothing. She wasn't thinking anything. Tugging a blue belt off of the rack she concluded with earnest to not think at all for the rest of the night. That rule would keep her in check, stop her from confusing friendships with emotions that hinted at more. Feelings she couldn't harbor for anyone that wasn't her boyfriend-especially writers from Brooklyn. And it would allow her to be the socialite she was in front of the people who needed her to be that. A demand of the Upper East Side and it's inhabitants.

Throwing the belt on the bed she moved into the bathroom, steam enveloping her as she found her way to the mirror. Reaching behind her shoulders to release her hair from the elastic that held it in place, a tiny yelp escaped her lips as it snagged a few times before sliding in defeat around her wrist.

"I'm guessing you found it." The faint sound of water hitting flesh consumed the bathroom, "you should get out. We need to start getting ready." Contemplating what to do with her messy frizz, she tilted her head, curling her fingers around a brush and setting it at the roots, dragging it through the tangles. Once the frizz had been managed into silky soft waves she sweeped a headband atop her head and went to work applying a tint of blush to her cheeks and a golden brown to her eyelids.

The distinct click of the water as it shut off, pleased Blair. He was making an effort to be co-operative as he exited the shower, shutting the glass door behind him. A towel hung off his hips as he walked towards her, staring at her backside with gratitude in his eyes.

Dropping the towel he pressed up against her, sliding his arms, wet with warm water, around her waist, soaking the robe she was wearing through in certain spots. Pieces of his hair tickled her neck and stuck to her skin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

"We could skip dinner" he prompted, an open tube of mascara dropped from her hands, clattering as it hit the sink and rolled about. A row of straight teeth bit suggestively at the tip of her ear as she leaned into him, "And get straight to dessert."

"My mother will be mad. We can't..." Her answer was as weak as it sounded, his chest rising and falling against her back.

"Their going back to Australia in the morning." For everything he wasn't he certainly knew how to stir the lust in her and cast the dreamily film of love in her eyes. For the first time in a few days she felt Cabbage Patch slipping from her thoughts as Hansen toyed with the belt around her waist.

"We can be late" He coaxed, "By just a little. I want to _show_ you how much I've missed you."

She was trapped helplessly inside of his charm, in those few seconds she was no better than the multitudes of women who sent him fan mail and hungered over him with steamy posters and odd souvenirs. Yes, their relationship was little more than sex but it gave off the appearance of trust and love just as both needed in their lives. The intimacy at least if nothing more was good enough to erase the horrid parts-most of the time.

Cleverly she manuevered out of his grasp, jogging to the closet with forceful intent. Her eyes fell to a creme coloured dress and it was yanked from the hanger quickly as she shed the robe and slipped the cool silk over her slip, straightening the bow that rested on her collar bone. If she had stayed another ten seconds within his muscular embrace she might have been persuaded out of their evening plans. At least she knew this and wasn't too bashful to admit it, having stopped it from happening which left room enough for personal praise on the matter.

Hansen had taken the hint concerning the inescapable dinner with Eleanor and Cyrus and had since dried himself off and splayed the towel on the bar in the bathroom before beginning to dress in the aforementioned ensemble.

Blair emerged from the walk in just in time to witness him buttoning up the dress shirt and shrugging into the blazer. He was one hundred percent the model boyfriend and none of the jackass on nights like these. A prim proper gentleman whose eyes spoke volumes about his soul and disguised his shortcomings with skill.

"You're beautiful," he mouthed in her direction as she slipped on a pair of Christian Loubitain heels turning away from him and his sickening faux perfection.

* * *

_One new message._

_"Hey it's Nate call me when you get this. Click."_

Checking his watch Dan dialed Nate's number as he stepped off of the platform and into the subway. He hadn't talked to his brother-in-law or sister for a handful of days but the least he had heard things weren't fantastic. The first ring of three sounded just as he found a vacant seat to occupy.

"Hello?" Nate's voice was raw.

"Hey Man."

"Oh hey buddy" He greeted, "Listen uh, where are you right now?"

"I just got onto the subway actually."

"Do you have plans tonight. Or like, what's going on with you?" His voice was shrill against the noisy backdrop which caused Dan to assume he was on the street somewhere.

"I'm just going home right now" He was hesitant to answer, "Why?"

"I'm kind of, like, outside your building right now."

"Oh. Shit. Well I'll be" He checked his watch again, "Around forty minutes. Are you going to wait?"

"I guess-yeah."

"Call me if you decide to bail, I'll be there in a bit."

"I'll be here, see you soon man."

Dropping the cell into his coat pocket he rested his head against the window. It wasn't unusual for Nate to drop by unexpected but there seemed to be something in his voice that Dan couldn't place. Plugging headphones into his ipod he secured them to his ears, hoping that there wasn't anything upsetting going on with Tal or Jen as he fished a book out of his bag and music floated around him.

Trying his best to delve into the literary wold he failed miserably, counting down the stops untill home instead.

* * *

Eleanor's eyes gleamed as she sipped at her wine, never one to disguise her excitement as she beamed.

"So Hansen" Que squeezing poor Cyrus' hand purple with the magnitude of elation, "How's work going?"

He set his own glass on the table cloth, glancing sideways at Blair who was toying with her diamond earrings entirely dis-interested in the conversation at hand.

"It's fantastic Mrs. Rose. I just wrapped up my one year contract with Hugo Boss last week in Spain actually."

"Oh call me Eleanor please!" She said, fervour dripping from her words.

She didn't know why she had insisted on coming when she could have been at home making love instead of listening to four solid hours of cheery banter directed at Hansen and his accomplishments under the guise of a family dinner. Small negative table scrap comments were pushed her way every few minutes on her lack of work ethic and dress size.

_As if_her mother knew how hard she worked, how much time she devoted to upholding the North American division of Waldorf designs. The company was her life and to have it dwindled away to nothing before her eyes once every ten months was tiring and bothersome. Weren't mothers supposed to be proud and encouraging of their only children?

The reason, she concluded, was the beaming stout man who sat across from her. Cyrus Rose. As much of a father to her as her actual father had been all these years. She loved him deeply and while Eleanor and Hansen prattled back and forth about the industry and fashion he leaned into the table.

"How are you my dear?" It was a question asked with general interest, "While these two talk shop we can talk about you."

"I'm fabulous," She answered, faux happiness and all. "What about you, how _is_ Australia this time of year?"

"It is _absolutely_ amazing, you should pack up and come stay with us for a few weeks Blair."

"If only I could" she lamented, "I'm only three quarters done the upcoming collection for Spring" That was her excuse and it was a damned good one at that.

"There has to be more news with you than work. Even if your mother doesn't know it- I know you work hard, but you can't work all the time."

It was difficult to think of anything in her life that didn't revolve around work, or needing to get something work related done.

"Well, I do have my ten year high school reunion in two days."

"Oh my" He gasped "Ten years you say? That's a big one." He chuckled deeply.

"I'm too young to feel this old" She admitted.

"Age is a funny thing my dear, it sneaks up on you" He exclaimed, "Just wait until you get the twenty year reunion invitation in the mail, that'll knock your socks right off."

"Good thing I don't wear socks often then" She parried, moving her hands into her lap as a dessert menu was placed in front of her.

* * *

"Pasta?"

A pot from the bottom cupboard and set on the stove top. In the past hour, every topic of conversation had been exhausted until both Dan and Nate found themselves hungry for something edible from the freshly stocked kitchen.

"Sounds great" Nate agreed, taking a seat at the island, an observing party as a box of pasta was emptied into boiling water.

"I slept at the office the other night, I-I haven't been home." It was a heavy confession that Dan was at a loss of words for. He hadn't known that things between Mr. and Mrs. Archibald, his sister and best friend respectively, were stretched that far between.

"Are things really that bad?"

"She hired a nanny."

He tensed at this information, a reaction wrought out of disbelief. "What, when?"

"A few weeks ago" He nodded, sandy blonde hair falling in front of his eyes."Her names Harriet, and Jen has barely spent time with Tal since she moved in. She's always at the spa or the gym."

"Have you talked about it?"

"The last time I tried to talk to her about anything she threw a crystal vase at me. She's constantly out of the house and wonders why we don't get along when she finally shows up at eleven-thirty at night. And now with Harriet I just don't know how to handle it."

There was silence as Dan stirred the pasta.

"What about marriage counselling?"

"You think?"

"Well" Dan thought of the best explanation,"If you both love each other and you want it to work out, that's the only thing I can think of."

"I know I still love her."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"No, not exactly." _Obviously not._

"Well then my idea's not only the best one so far" He said emphatically, "It's the only one."

"You're right."

Turning off the element he transferred the pasta to two clean plates. Nate slid off the stool and padded over to the living room, flipping on the television and falling backwards in the couch settling on a sports channel.

"Is it okay if I stay here tonight?" Nate looked up from his plate, twirling a pile of spaghetti onto his fork.

"Yeah no problem man, I'll pull the futon out."

For the duration of the meal Nate and Dan sat side by side, eating dinner and cheering for some unknown football team; while the last rays of sunlight travelled behind the city buildings and out of sight.

* * *

"The_ cheesecake_" Eleanor said, "really?" The waitress moved to gather the menu's, replacing them with the daily wine listings and Blair nodded.

"Yes, the _cheesecake_." Her mother glowered disapprovingly, just as Hansen's hand travelled up Blair's bare thigh. As per usual her mother had taken the time out to ridicule her daughter's choices.

"I suppose you don't mind adding another five pounds to those thi-"

"Darling" Cyrus interrupted, "The girl can eat what she wants. She's not a child and she's as skinny as a stick. It's not like a sliver of cheesecake is going to change things."

"I'm just saying" Eleanor defended, "She doesn't need it."

Blair wanted to scream, rip her mother's words to pieces and spit on Hansen and his wandering hands all before running out of the restaurant, releasing herself from such an agonizing obligation. Then it occurred to her, why was she still there? A simple urging thought like that and courage easily deconstructed the insecurity that had built itself up. Narrowing her eyes in disgust she slammed her napkin on the table, causing Eleanor to jump slightly.

"How do you know what I need?" She tensed "You don't. You never did and you never will. I'm sick of this" Her tone was rising and she did nothing to lower it. "and I'm sick of you. You're not my mother, you never were. Dorota was the only thing I had growing up because you were too busy for me, so don't" She warned sharply, "Don't pretend like you actually know anything about me." Her cheeks were hot with anger as she pushed out of the chair, standing up fast. "Thanks for dinner Cyrus and I'll see you at home if you decide to show up tonight Hansen."

With that she felt lighter as though the completely inappropriate outburst had been exactly what she needed. Turning to face a restaurant of appalled men and women, grabbing her jacket off of her chair and running as gracefully as could be managed out of the bistro without looking back.

* * *

During halftime Dan retreated to the kitchen, two dirty plates in hand. Setting them in the sink he held his hands under the faucet, just as his ring tone could be heard from the inside of bis blazer jacket . Hastily turning off the water he moved towards the island where his coat resided, plucking the device from the corduroy.

"Hello?"

"Hey Cabbage Patch, it's Blair."

His mouth went dry and his hands shook slightly, he couldn't think and he didn't know what to say. Why was she calling him at ten o'clock at night? After a pregnant pause he reciprocated with, "No." _What a great conversationalist ..._

"Could you-maybe meet me?"

Running a hand through his hair in apprehension he responded with,"Where?"

"Anywhere. I'm in a taxi, I'll come to Brooklyn." Blair Waldorf in a taxi without coaxing? Surprising.

Giving her the name of a nearby playground he ended the call, turning to Nate, having to press his lips together hard to keep from smiling. Slinging a nearby coat onto his shoulders he twisted a green scarf around his neck.

"I'll be back in a bit" He called behind his shoulder, walking out the door.

Even though March was approaching rapidly the frigid winter air had only increased, with strong winds nipping at his face as he stepped onto the street. Heading towards a playground a few blocks ahead. It was the only place that had popped into his mind when she had suggested meeting up being that the nearest park was seven blocks further-too far to venture on foot at night.

Taking a seat on the cold slide he waited awkwardly, feeling more of a child than a grown man.

* * *

She know why she had called Cabbage Patch or why she was in a taxi heading over the Brooklyn bridge. She could just inform the driver that she'd had a change of direction and give him instructions on how to reach her penthouse but no words left her mouth. No, she wanted to be where she was going, she needed to see him, more than anything. Even if she wouldn't admit it out loud.

* * *

Dan concentrated on his surroundings, eyes snapping open as the screeching sound of brakes filled the air, heels clicking against the pavement on the opposite side of the street.

Blair was absolutely stunning as she strode towards him, underneath the gleam of the moon in a creme coloured dress that hung off her bare shoulder and stopped mid-thigh giving way to long lean legs. He cast a look at his own attire, feeling instant inferiority at being completely under dressed for the occasion in a pair of holey jeans and a grey shirt. A pair of white lace gloves adorned her delicate hands, a simple golden B thumping against her collar bone with each stride.

"Hey there!" She called, embracing him for a long moment, his nostrils inhaling the scent of lilac and vanilla greedily.

"Hey."

"So" She breathed, "Are there no parks around here, or do you just like playing in playgrounds?" She reached shuffling his hair with a gloved hand, passing by him and onto a platformed piece of jungle gym.

"You're never too old for playgrounds didn't you know?" His eyes were glued to her silhouette as she dropped her clutch and sat next to it, shifting to make space for him.

"I walked out of dinner with my parents" She confessed lightly, "I just left."

"Really?" He prompted, the Waldorf he went to high school with had never been one to be impolite.

"She was harping on me for cheesecake and I-just lost it." She fretted, "I was ery un-lady like."

He took a seat beside her, smiling.

"I wouldn't worry about it. When you spend your whole life being a lady one slip up isn't going to do much." Nodding firmly and winking with this assurance.

* * *

It was cold out, and Blair's flimsy jacket wasn't warming her up quite enough, she rubbed her arms vigorously. Seconds later she felt the weight of fabric against her back as Brooklyn's corduroy jacket was placed over her shoulders, his hands retreating from her frame quickly. She could feel the remains of his body heat on the lining, glancing over at him she beamed, flashing pearly white teeth behind pink lips.

"Thank you."

She breathed in his rugged scent deeply, realizing that it was peppermint and newspapers that he smelt of, answering the earlier blank she had been trying to figure. An attraction had formed unlike any other she had experienced, fixated on the smallest details of the man beside her instead of the whole.

"Humphrey?"

He gazed at her, his eyes brown irises bright in the darkness. Her hand was on the scruff of his cheek before she could correct her behavior, cupping his jaw gently. Elation erupted at the close proximity of his body, she was inviting him to move closer with her smile and he did, not entirely sure of his gestures as he made them. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his tentatively at first, harder as she grew more confident in her decision.

The kiss grew more passionate, stirring strong desire. She felt safer than she had ever before, his hands wandering up her arms and into her hair. With a small grown she broke away from him, breathing heavily with excitement, wrapping her arms around Cabbage Patch, pressing him into her coat.

Neither wanted to break the silence or question the electricity that flowed between them, as silent and still as the night.

She felt whole underneath the moonlight with a confused Lonely boy in her arms. For the first time in a long time she didn't want to move, the feeling of his body against hers was enough.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I couldn't resist finishing this chapter until it evolved into romance (: There's a little bit of Nate/Jenny as per requested. Although I don't think I'm going to make them a steady subplot but I'll definitely try and work them in occasionally (unless you're really interested in how that works out.) As per usual I'd like to thank my faithful reviewers, readers and supporters, I really appreciate when you take the time to read and when you review-oh man, it's fantastic to know that you really enjoy this story!


	7. You picked me

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

**Juno MacGuff**: I think I'm in love with you.  
**Paulie Bleeker**: You mean as friends?  
**Juno MacGuff**: No... I mean for real. 'Cause you're, like, the coolest person I've ever met, and  
you don't even have to try, you know...  
**Paulie Bleeker**: I try really hard, actually.

Chapter Seven:

Thought did not always accompany direct action. For instance – Dan could think about Blair's lips all he wanted, feel them like butterfly wings fluttering against his in soft fluid motions; without complicating the thought process with a plan of action.

Normally he would be pacing in front of the phone, or trying to ignore the idea of pacing in front of the phone, burying himself instead in legions of work as a poorly constructed distraction. Considering and reconsidering what to do and how to get it done in a gentlemen's fashion.

No, everything was different with Blair. The rules had been thrown out the window and every time this tradition worked to set itself in motion it simply stopped on its own accord with a simple reminder. Her gentle touch, the darkness of her irises as they looked up at him; and it was so incredibly liberating to suddenly be free of the confines that had developed around his past relationships.

Pulling the cufflinks through the sewn hole at his wrists he looked warily at the mirror, grimacing. With a severe squint he could still catch glimpses of the teenager he once was through the added effort of shaving and washing his hair; painstakingly shrugging into the full ensemble of a tuxedo that, ironically enough, he hadn't work since high school.

Nate had called an hour earlier with the threat of dragging Dan out of his loft and into the limo should he not be spotted on the street in ten minutes. _Make no mistake_, Dan had wanted to say, _I have a reason to be there, and her names Blair… maybe you know her?_ But he had kept his mouth shut and dutifully scoffed as per expected.

Sucking in a breath, he assessed his appearance in the mirror once more before padding to the front door, pulling on his overcoat and scarf with clumsy hands. Why did they have to have these gatherings in the midst of the coldest months of the year, shouldn't they be in the summer when everything is freshly thawed?

Or maybe this was entirely on purpose, some type of inside joke amongst school boards across New York. To usher old friends together under rainclouds and frigid winds in an attempt to give each conversation a solid base – if one found ones self stalled for small talk – "So how about this weather huh?"

Well he would refuse to use this social crutch even within the social awkwardness Dan was sure would befall him the second his leather shoes set foot in the ritzy ballroom. For the most part, as he locked the door and took the stairs two at a time, he felt as if he were simply counting down the hours until the girl that had graced his dreams was in front of him once more. The city lights guiding him to his destination; to his muse and her beautiful red lips.

* * *

"I can't _believe_ you were out drinking all day."

"It was one scotch - I wasn't downing drinks all day Blair."

She was furious, she wanted to mortally injure him ... kick him where it counted, instead she whirled around angrily, furrowing her brow. "You were gone all day and you expect me to believe that? I wasn't born yesterday, unlike _some_ people I actually went to university - Yale if you can recall."

The elevator dinged, reaching the bottom floor as its doors slid open. Smiling for the doorman she picked up her train as Hansen offered his arm. Sliding her hand through it he guided them outside onto the bustling street and into the waiting limo with quick steps. Gracefully Blair sat straight against the leather seats seething quietly as the door shut and they were left in gray darkness, alone once more. Her smile faded quickly as his hand dropped to her thigh.

What was with her, she seemed to be attracted to all the assholes. The mess ups, the arrogant CEO's and pompous actors, it was like a preference that all lead back to one man, Chuck Bass, who would surely be in the venue her limo was driving towards with the hand of another one of his proto-types on her skin. It was all so infuriating and unfair, abruptly though, as anger pumped through her veins, she thought of Dan's arms, wiry and strong as they wrapped around her, and he was the acceptation to it all - a welcomed one.

They rode in silence and Blair watched the streets pass by them idly as Hansen's fingers traced shapes onto her flesh. It was easier to bear his presence with the knowledge that she would be able to escape his gaze almost immediately, showcasing him only when needed in front of those who's expectations rose high above her own apparently.

The car skidded to a stop and Hansen turned to her, pressing his wolfish lips against her hungrily before releasing his grasp and moving towards the door which opened slowly to reveal a gaggle of expected paparazzi. The flash of their camera's blinding Blair as she stepped from the limo and onto a red carpet had been rolled out very conveniently, allowing her train to drop to the ground.

With each flash her lips ached, twisted into a glowing beam as they were. Slowing inching down the line, posing and reposing, a perfect kiss and outing for the perfect couple. The thought made her stomach turn what breakfast she had consumed and by the time they reached the lobby she was drained of tolerance and needed to consume some food in order to keep the bile from rising to her throat. Slowly they paraded to the ballroom, every bit the whirlwind romance and success that everyone assumed they were together - a match made in heaven.

Inhaling deeply as they made their way up the staircase and down the marble hallway. Thinking of everything and nothing as the golden doors opened and the familiar room was revealed, full to the brim. Feeling the air fill her lungs she hesitated momentarily, pushing away all the weakness and insecurity that pressed against her, confidently stepping into her past with practiced steps.

* * *

Dan was restless, checking his watch for the thousandth time in the past five minutes only to confirm that Nate and Jenny were officially ten minutes late. Checking his watch he considered making a run for the next subway, dreading the idea of showing up characteristically late. When he heard the distinct hum of a car engine, turning to see a sleek limo pull up in front of him as Nate opened the door and directed Dan into its warmth.

"Hey man, sorry we're late." Nate ran a hand through his tousled hair as Dan thumped against the opposite seat, recognizing the slim pale legs next to him as his sister.

"Tal had a fit right before we left and I had to rock her to sleep" Jen elaborated; turning herself to him for a hug, inhaling her perfume he smiled meekly and parted from her embrace cautiously.

"I don't mind, _I can't believe you're dragging me to this_."

Nate laughed, a deep sound that resonated from his ribcage "Hey you said that you intended to go after paying all that money."

"Yeah, only after you looped me into it with your doe eyes and boyish grin," Dan joked, fluttering his lashes "I was simply no match for your charm."

There was a point he was trying to swing, and although he couldn't really gage the recent communication of the two he could guess by the leftover air that not much had been said before they had pulled up. And if nothing else he would attempt - fail or no fail - to make everything alright between them for one night, even if it came at the expense of shameless plugging and prodding. As were the newly outline duties of one Daniel Humphrey ... brother, brother-in-law and best friend.

"He is very charming" Jenny said, the pitch of her voice rising "Very charming indeed."

"Not agreed" Nate's cheeks were pink with the attention as he flashed a smile "But accepted."

"So you guys are actually excited for this?" He inquired hastily, resting his arm against the back of the seat as they passed glittering Times Square and it's hoards of tourists who looked upon the concrete jungle in absolute awe. Clearly by Jenny's grin the word excite was definitely several thousand expressions underneath the right definition.

"Are you kidding!" she screeched "How could you not be?"

"Okay, considering you spent" Dan rubbed his chin in thought "What was it? Pretty much your entire high school career revolting against the social system of Constance, you my dear sister should not be as intense about this as you are."

"High school was ages ago, the whole point of this is to get together and show off everything you've accomplished and it just so happens" Her hand reached for Nate, "I have the prince charming and the beautiful little girl to show for it."

Bewildered a moment at the gesture Nate took her hand and kissed it lightly, she giggled at the action and inwardly Dan breathed a sigh of relief. The contempt was gone from their eyes and he was beyond glad that it didn't take much to build a bridge across their separate worlds even for a few hours. If they were to go to marriage counselling as per suggested by a particularly wise brother - he had a feeling it would work indefinitely towards a better outcome than the straining marriage the two had been struggling against.

"And all I've got to show for all those dreadful years of high school is a few hundred articles in the Yale daily news and the New York Times, yippee!" he chided after a pregnant pause, "How accomplished." The sarcasm that drenched his words was thick and dripping.

"Dan, you're amazing. Stop being an idiot and enjoy this." Jenny parried, as the limo stopped and the driver rounded the back of the car to open the door. "You are after all, Daniel Humphrey!" She jumped from her seat and exited the car at this, taking her husbands arm as they posed for pictures, leaving the words to settle around him.

_Dan Humphrey. _Yale graduate, New York Times columnist and writer. It didn't sound so bad when put in those terms and decidedly if anyone asked he would put it exactly like that. Maybe once or twice to people who he never really remembered he could add, in the most serious tone, kung-fu master. At this realization, sugar coated autobiography and slightly deceptive plan just for laughs; Dan exited the limo with a smile - the night that stretched ahead of him seemed less intimidating than it had five minutes earlier.

* * *

It was a keen sixth sense, developed over the tumultuous course of childhood and teenagedom and for the past few years it had been utterly useless, tucked away with the unlikelies and possibilities all but forgotten with the passing of time. From the moment she had taken a seat in her assigned placement, Hansen pushed a champagne flute into her empty hand. Her heart was thrumming against her ribcage and beat for beat she concentrated on talking to Penelope - no less of the minion she had been in high school, while his heated gaze trained on her with sticky meaning.

She could not sense where he was, or catch him in a convenient glance but wherever Chuck Bass was, he could see her. She felt larky and changed under the weight of his stare and it propelled her to swallow the contents of the alcohol offered in one less than graceful swig preceded by a nervous giggle. Penelope was utterly abashed with Hansen as he mulled on about insouciant topics, completely absorbed by his charm. Blair took the abrupt opportunity to finish two more flutes full of bubbling glorious champagne before politely extracting herself from the conversation. Hansen's warm lips meeting hers briefly before she all but fled to lobby in search of the bathroom and perhaps the open bar.

She squinted against the dim lights of the bathroom, smiling meekly at the floor while a woman dried her hands and clicked out of the washroom with heavy steps, leaving Blair alone. She leaned against the counter. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breath out. Turning slowly she examined herself in the mirror, adjusting her dress before closing her eyes. A few minutes on Chuck's radar and she was completely undone. How stupid and childish, could she be any more seventeen?

There was a forceful whoosh of air as the door swung open, and Blair blinked, twisting the hot water faucet on, busying her hands under the stream. Her eyes trained on the porcelain bowl of the sink as the distinct click of a lock echoed off the walls, sliding into place. She exhaled deeply, knowing then who was less than ten feet away from her - the very man she wished not to lay eyes on.

"Chuck" her voice trembled, she did not look up. Could not.

"Blair" It was a weak whisper, brushing her bare skin, pulling at every bit of her.

"What do you want?" She inquired, reaching for the paper towels. Rubbing her hands dry and then raw before balling it up and throwing it into the wastebasket.

"A lot of things." Danm. She turned away from him and yet he stepped closer. "Blai-"

No. No. She wasn't going to listen. She put her hand up in a gesture of silence, feeling the tears burn at her eyes. "No."

"Hansen Marls?" He said, "You're not happy with him." It was a statement, not a question; and it hung between them darkly.

"It's none of your business" She spat, turning sharply only to step back. Her eyes drinking in the sight of him as he stood, the same man he had always been stared back at her, watching her look at him as if it were the most natural thing. To be locked in a bathroom at the Palace hotel with your former lover ... and it was, for the couple they had been. The relationship they had kept together, the narrative that had been created around them.

Why was she still standing there bewildered? Blair took a deep breath, eyeing the door handle as she quickly strode towards it. She felt his hand clasp her forearm barely two footsteps later and then he was guiding her backwards. Her back hit the wall with a thud and he held her there, trapped, no where to look but the browns of his eyes. "I've missed you Waldorf" His breath was sweet against her cheek as he leaned into her ear "It's been too long."

And she was weakened beneath his touch, unable to separate what was right from what she wanted and when his lips met hers, the familiar taste of scotch on his tongue, a thousand memories flooded around them, and they were an island away from it all. Chuck and Blair. He loosened his grip, running a hand through her long hair, a moan escaped her lips as he drew kisses along her jaw line and down her neck. "You're so beautiful."

His palm grasped her thigh, hooking it onto his hip while he undid the zipper of his pants. Her shoe slipped off and clattered to the ground, Blair's eyes flitted open at the sound and her thoughts regained clarity just as his hand slid up her dress. She pushed him off, bending quickly to retrieve her fallen shoe. He reached for her and a low growl escaped her parted lips, turning away without looking back. She unlocked the door and broke into a run across the lobby, peering over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being followed when she collided with something rather solid, tripping backwards.

"Mmph" The man grunted, and she realized that she had fallen into his chest, murmuring an apology she looked up at him. There was a pause before she breathed his name.

"Dan..."

* * *

An awkward run in with one very pregnant Serena Van Der Woodsen; nay, Mrs. Serena Warren ... _check.  
_One forlorn smile from Vanessa as she all but hung off Hansen Marls arm ... _check.  
_Several useless dagger stares thrown at one famous model namely Hansen Marls - recognizable more so for his front page behaviour than his Dior and Gucci campaigns, who had a gaggle of single and not-so-single women swarming him as if he were George Clooney or Brad Pitt when quite honestly there was nothing too alluring about the man except for his exceptionally white pin-straight teeth that were no doubt the products of one very expensive dentist and bleach treatments ... _check._

Still though he searched the crowds relentlessly for the one woman whom, by the presence of her stupid boyfriend, had to logically be somewhere inside the hotel. Wandering from conversation to conversation his eyes widened, locking with Serena's once more as she pulled herself up from the table she was seated at and started a slow waddle in his direction. Quickly, Dan glanced around, moving into a throng of men who were sharing stories over tumblers of what appeared to be brandy.

He could not, nay would not, endure another elicited exchange of words over her and her beautiful husband and beautiful children. It was as if, years too late, he had finally realized how self centered and irritating she really was and it left him with a sore bruise of regret over the relationship he had kept going, on and off, off and on, for at least two and a half years.

It had taken even longer to get her to stop thinking he had wanted to be friends and he would rather eat snails than allow her to believe some small window of friendship was available for her to pry open again - ever. Given he still loved her, an obligatory love born out of several shared memories and intimate moments but it was beyond his desire to re-kindle anything more than a seldom used acquaintance.

He needed some air, slinking from table to table until finally the grand entrance was within view he swooped a glass of champagne from a passing tray and ducked low to the ground and out into the second floor lobby. Stretching out he spotted the doors to the balcony and was about to turn towards them when someone collided with him, the impact sending him back on the heels of his feet.

"Mmph" He grunted, automatically reaching to steady the person who had crashed into him. He looked from the glass in his hand to his suit, hastily assessing any stains before casting a glance at the woman whose arms he held steadfast not two feet apart from him. _Blair_. She tilted her chin to him and he noticed the ruby lipstick smudged across her full lips.

"Dan..." He dropped her arms and then they were around him and she was burying her face into his neck. She smelt of lilies and Chanel and tentatively he patted the top of her head, pulling her into his chest, "Oh Dan" She whimpered. He felt her lips move against the crook of his neck as she mumbled an explanation that was uttered too low for him to understand.

Dan peeled his eyes off of Blair temporarily as she nestled further into his coat only to see Chuck Bass stocking towards them. Whatever had happened he would bet all he had that it was something to do with that smug asshole. With this thought his jaw set tight, grimacing, not sure of how to defend Blair once Chuck got closer but to his surprise the idiot didn't stride up to them, instead he took a sharp right and descended the stairs.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in, focusing his attention once more on the petite brunette enclosed in his arms. Gently parting their embrace she looked up at him curiously and he gestured to the balcony, she nodded once and he lead her to the doors, his hand on the small of her back as she rested against his side.

* * *

"It's weird" Blair exclaimed after countless minutes of listening to the bustle of the city below them, "I'm too young to feel this old." She reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes, pressing her hips into the railing. Above them the stars were hidden by heavy grey clouds and below the lights of New York shone like beacons in the darkness. Dan half-smiled, tuned into the faint honk and holler of taxi cabs and rowdy parties.

She felt stupid, how could she be so stupid? He looked over at her as if she were a fallen angel; the faint upturn of his lips melted a piece of her she didn't know existed. She was so stupid and there she was - where she never thought she would be ten years from eighteen- beside a different man on the balcony of a ritzy hotel. Inside, people she knew; friends, acquaintances, faces in the background of some of the best moments in her life, mingled and drank and were merry without her.

She didn't want to be there - she had over estimated her strength against Chuck and he did, as he always had, breaking her down without so much as a second thought. Twisting away the layers with a few soft words and desirable touches, revealing a Blair she had long since worked to forget. And then there was Dan - Cabbage patch, Brooklyn boy and he shattered her differently, with separate actions and wise words. It was all so confusing.

"Are you okay?" He asked, and she realized all too late that she had been softly sobbing, short quick cries in the open cold air of winter. His arms wrapped around her and she turned into his jacket, it smelt differently than she had remembered.

"It smells different" she sputtered, pulling back.

"What?" He reached to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"The jacket" she elaborated, "It doesn't smell like_ you_."

He looked down at her with bewilderment and she wondered if she had said too much, too soon, if somehow he was calculating how long it would take to get just as far away from the crazy girl who was insisting his blazer didn't smell of him. She watched intently as the confused expression changed slowly to a look of amusement.

"How do I smell?"

She laughed quietly, he had beautiful eyes.

"Like" She thought back to waking up in his apartment, to the scent of his jacket around her shoulders on the playground "Peppermint and newspapers."

"Oh, and is that a good thing?" It was the best smell in the world, the greatest thing she could possibly think of that came for free. Less astounding than his smile or the feeling of happiness as his arms held her but equally as amazing as any other part of him.

"It's a great thing." She muttered, nestling back into the blazer that smelt of coffee and cologne, a few seconds later a salty tear ran down her cheek. His arm rubbed her back and for once she didn't care how it looked or who might happen upon them, all that mattered was Cabbage patch. "I-We" He made her feel so comfortable, so accepted. "I got p-pregnant"

"Blair you don't-" He whispered.

She continued "I got pregnant at 18, there w-was a mis-carriage at four months."

Dan didn't say anything but she felt his hold on her grow tighter, "That's why we broke up. He never wanted to but I just couldn't stand being with him anymore it was too much strain on the relationship so I wen-t to Yale and he went abroad. He sent me letters and texts and voice-mails but I ignored every single one. I haven't seen him since then" she paused, "Until tonight."

"Mmm" Dan answered, "And?"

"And- he still loves me, I still love him too; but it just isn't going to work you know? We're not the same. I'm not the same."

"I know what you mean."

"Honestly I don't know, maybe I would get back together with him" She sucked in a breath, what was she doing? About to throw away the slightly dis-honest crisp conclusion she had brought everything regarding Chuck Bass to ... apparently. "That is, until I ran into you."

Listening to his breathing she knew that if he hadn't already thought she was really stupid he was probably drawing up that idea now. A second passed and he said "Do you want to get out of here?"

"More than anything."

Half an hour later they were in her limo headed for Dan's loft, beaming at each other like two people in love-while Hansen, oblivious to his girlfriends departure, regaled everyone who would listen, with tales of his latest modeling venture.

* * *

**Author's Note: **HEY EVERYONE! Long time no post ... until now!! I hope you liked the new chapter (: I didn't focus very much on anything other than Chuck/Blair/Dan ... there's a bit of Serena, Nate, and Jenny but not much (however Serena will make another appearance soon.) Anyway, keeping in the spirit of the Juno quote I think it would be pretty _wizard_ if you dropped me a review ;)


	8. Upper East Side princess

**Disclaimer:**I don't own Gossip Girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

A/N: This chapter is rated **M** due to foul language and sexually explicit scenes.

Happy Reading.

* * *

I can't see anything in the dark but then  
Your reflection brings all into light  
When you are near me  
When you are here I see  
All that I am made of  
And all that I am  
- **When you are near  
**  
Chapter Eight:

Chuck's hands against her thigh pleading so vehemently for the revival of a past fought so hard to be lost, his movements towards her as if she were prey he was considering how to devour properly. Lonely boy's hair tickling her shoulder as he twisted further into the crook of her neck, his eyes baring into her flesh, kneading her stomach with his palms. These images cleansed her of the sordid night, stripping of her old flesh, pink and new under the tips of his fingers.

A delicate sheet was the only separation between them; a dividing wall between inspired lovers. Sitting up, she followed Brooklyn's figure as he rose from the bed and padded to the kitchen, working to prepare something. The coffee maker was turned on and eliciting gurgles began, the intense smell of morning greeting her nostrils in the form of dark roast blend.

He smiled at her and she felt fireworks ignite in the pit of her stomach, thrashing against her ribcage. Such a simple gesture and she was off the edge with happiness, so solidly consumed by him that it didn't bother her in the least when the same cheek-hurting-smile curved her lips.

She had made love to Daniel Randolph Humphrey of 1174 Retting Ave. Williamsburg, Brooklyn. In a king sized bed with an antique frame that squeaked slightly. Blair had found sanctity in this, a desire that ran deep beneath her skin and she felt more alive because of it than ever before. The most glorious event of the past ten years she would never have anticipated with open eyes.

The way his stubble felt beneath her fingertips; the gentle rise and fall of his stomach against hers as she moaned low in his ear, the poetry he had woken her with, lines of classic literature that breathed livelihood into the loft, settling around her comfortably.

"I don't know what you've done to me" He said, stroking her hipbone as they had laid side by side hours earlier. And from then on her head had constructed a neat little sign, hanging it at the front of her cranium, "On vacation, be back later."

This emotion that shot through her like electricity differed so greatly from what had kept itself in her darkened past. Chuck was forceful, driven by the mad lust in his eyes and she had been just as eagerly drawn into the flame. Archibald had been gentle, each breath an uncertain one and Hansen's affection was self absorbed, only extracting effort if he had something to gain by its release.

No. None of them compared in the slightest. With Dan every touch was it's own question, passionate and intent but not overwhelming. His hazel eyes glassed over under the shadows of the city as they moved in unison. Their own platform alone together, so desperately far from the island she had shared with Charles that it mattered not anything but that moment and it's guided tenderness.

"Mmm coffee" He murmured, taking a long gratifying sip before reaching over Blair to place it on the bedside table. Moving to drape his arms around her abdomen he placed sloppy caffeine soaked kisses down her bare shoulders. She swatted at him, relenting with a small sigh at the tingling sensation that stirred in her belly.

"G'morning."

"Hi," She giggled.

He laughed, "Are you hungry?" His lips flush against her sharp shoulder so agonizingly perfect that it was all she could do to remain as still as a statue away from the temptation his presence planted within her.

"Mm, I guess you could say that." And all restraint dissolved, turning to place a vigorous kiss on his lips. He greeted her tongue probing his, the sheet dropping between them in glorified defeat.

* * *

He knew where it was going, for the fourth time that morning he was going to sleep with Blair Waldorf. She tasted of the Chinese food he had ordered last night with a bite of caffeine. Naked in front of him just as he was naked behind her and he felt himself stiffen as she bit her lip, rolling the plump flesh between two rows of perfect teeth. Her eyes looked up at him with such adoration that it was difficult to keep steady as he crawled over her, in a stradling position.

She laid down, pink nipples in the center of pale skin and he took one in his mouth, encircling it with his tongue, sucking at it carefully. She gasped, short deep breaths of enjoyment, leaning back and closing her eyes as he repeated this with the other. It was beginning to hurt, seeing such a beautiful woman displayed in front of him, every part of her there for his eyes to drink in. He strained, gritting his teeth to control his urges.

Her hand fell to it, stroking lightly at first, a tease. Then she took it full in her palm, rubbing up and down rhythmically, his own breathing coming now in short spurts. He kissed the corner of her mouth fervently again and again while her hand worked towards his satisfaction. Whimpering, she stopped abruptly, eyes fluttering open, glittering.

He licked his lips, nodding as he straightened her ankle and dropped it on his shoulder, adjusting himself at her warm entrance. If it wasn't real he wished never to wake.

"Please" Was all it took, a request so light it dropped to the ground soundlessly in what little space was left between them. One push and he was inside her, she yelled out and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the way she enveloped him. One thin arm looped around his neck as her foot dangled behind his shoulder. The heat was slow at first, gradually he pumped faster and faster, studying her expression as she received each feeling he could offer, her lush lips parted slightly as her hand trailed down his side to cup his buttocks.

Neither were in a hurry. Although it wasn't the first time that day that they had made love it would not be the last and even with this, they were painstakingly slow, savoring each breath, each tension inside of each other. His lips met hers tenderly as he worked his hips, swallowing her moans. And then they were on a precipice together, his fingers working at her clit as he grew closer to an orgasm. Sliding his tongue along the sole of her foot her eyes snapped open, wide. "Dan" She uttered, a resounding word, and then she was quivering beneath him, a few seconds later he grunted, releasing himself in her embrace.

Cautiously lowering himself he rested his head on her stomach, tracing circles around her belly button where sweat beads sat. Feeling her press a kiss to the top of his head, running her hands through his hair before setting her cheek on the pillow.

After a few minutes he rolled beside her, a beam on his lips as he propped himself up.

"We should probably eat some breakfast" He brushed a hand along her jaw, "I'm kind of hungry now."

She curled onto her side beneath his gaze, laughing.

"Me too."

Stretching away from the bed she reached for her bra, hooking the clasp around her back. Dan slipped off the bed and into a pair of jeans accompanied by a seemingly clean red plaid shirt that had been discarded on the couch a few days prior.

"I'm so overdressed" She exclaimed truthfully, unzipping her black dress and stepping into it, pulling it up her thighs and hips carefully.

It binded her in all the right places, accentuating her hips and breasts subtly. Cutting straight across her armpit and straight down at her shoulder. From then onward a shift of black lace set at her collarbone and curved into a demurely sexy neckline. It was every bit a fashion statement designed to show off what she had maintained over the past ten years, something that confirmed her beauty without over stating it.

He threw her his shirt and set about pulling a blue one up his shoulders instead.

"I have some jeans if you want, their an old pair of Jen's."

She hugged the fabric for a moment, considering, before placing her arms in it.

"This is fine" She said, buttoning it up. Somehow she still managed to be absolutely gorgeous, hair fluffed and tangled from being caught in his fingers numerous times throughout the night and left unbrushed, her cheeks flushed and a glow that resided in her pores. "This is a long shot but-" glancing up from her task, as she set the last button in it's place. "Do you by chance have any shoes I could wear that don't have six inch heels?"

"Hrm. I don't know ... that's kind of all I wear," He half-smiled.

She cocked an eyebrow, "Oh please."

Disappearing nto the offhand room he re-appeared with a pair of ratty black converse.

"Jenny's?"

He nodded.

* * *

She knew they weren't but took them from his closed hand none the less. It didn't matter that he had girlfriends before her, after all she was still technically dating someone. Whatever was between them was so new and exciting, she wouldn't allow it to be ruined by the threat of insecurity. Whoever had been in this apartment before her didn't matter now, she was his present and possible future.

"How do I look?" A portion of her tight mid-thigh dress peeked out from under the fitted plaid she wore buttoned four buttons past her waistline, no makeup, no hairspray and dirtied converse that had once donned the feet of one of not-so-lonely-boy's previous lovers.

Grabbing her clutch she tripped clumsily to the door, not used to having her entire foot planted firmly on the ground. She heard his gentle laugh at her efforts as he rounded a hand across her back, dismissing his support eagerly.

"I can do this by myself thank you."

"Alright" He breathed, retracting his hand only to intertwine it with hers, "But if you think I'm going to go a whole ten feet without holding your hand" He brought her knuckles to his lips, "You-clumsy version of Blair Waldorf, are sadly mistaken."

Standing on the tips of her toes she brushed a kiss to his chin before rolling back (not so intentionally) on the balls of her feet, growling at the mock insult.

"It's so weird that you can't walk in sneakers, it's like the complete opposite of most women" he commented, locking the door and walking towards her as she waited at the top of the staircase. Marvelously altered under his affection, he provoked the child inside of her that wanted to break free of the chains that twisted around her, even if they had previously done so in very accommodating shoes.

"I love my Christian Louboutins okay?" _And I'm not giving them up, my feet are just really sore right now_. "Besides, in my world it's a crime to wear anything on your feet without at least three inches of height to them."

"Well then Ms. Waldorf, I do believe you're breaking the rules."

_It's okay_ She thought as they turned onto the street. _This isn't my world anyway, it's yours._

* * *

Two blocks later with a few muttered curses under her breath, Dan noticed that she fumbled a lot less, steadier on her feet than she had been to begin with. It was entirely surreal to be with her, to have made love to her, to know in that very second just how she would taste if he pressed his lips to hers, backed her into a dark alleyway and slid his hand up her thigh. He was smitten, the way her voice rose when she got excited and the guttural cries that escaped her lips as he pleasured her.

At eighteen he would have deemed this impossible, taking offense if someone had even brought up a relationship with the five feet of label whoring girl beyond the confines of aqquaintance. Sucker punch at the ready for any proposal of the intimate levels they had reached all night and most of the morning as in fact a plausible outcome.

He had managed to despise her quite regularly until graduation upon which there was no more reason to harbour such intensities and the hatred had fizzled into indifference. It was not meant to happen then though, there were lessons he had yet to draw from Vanessa, Serena and Beth. Things that conditioned him better for any future rendezvous, not that she was a just a fling.

But now, as unreal as it seemed, it felt as though a piece of the puzzle was snapping into place at just the right time-gluing itself to the tabletop, unmovable. The thought of her hand being in his, eyes searching his as he moved inside of her and her shy smile as they conversed; spread warmth in his veins, he wanted to keep her and be for her what no one had stepped up to be in her life. Dependant.

Pulling her into the diner they had eaten at weeks prior, on the morning of their new-found friendship as she fought off a hangover and Dan fought to find words to bridge the gap. Now, as she took a seat across from him in the same tattered booth, he looked up at her and she smirked, squeezing his hand as it lay on her knee. He was floating helplessly on cloud nine and undoubtedly loved the view.

* * *

"I think I'll have the garden burger" Blair peeked out from the top of her menu as Brooklyn's brown eyes trailed the footsteps of passing men and women on the avenue.

"Garden burger?" He asked, "Are you vegetarian?"

"For the most part. I eat fish occasionally though" There was a slapping sound as she let the plastic fall to the table. Decided on her Thursday "brunch" if even such a thing could exist any day aside from Sunday.

Resisting the pulsing need to fish her compact mirror from the black clutch set at her elbow she busied herself with cracking her knuckles. A nasty habit acquired at Yale that sufficed to distract from the utter mess that was her appearance. Finding the idea of settling into this particular routine very intriguing having been detached from work for several days, spinning round and round with lists and tasks to complete before the reunion.

Landing on the ground once again, being in clothes that didn't suck the breath from her lungs with the slightest twitch and it was freeing. Leaving her with the sprouting idea that she could possibly get away with creating something high fashion yet loose fitting for days exactly like these, when a woman didn't want to grace painful heels and heavy diamond earrings that dropped towards their shoulders. Surely appearance, beauty and comfort could create some kind of pact without favoring one more than the other.

As the waitress took their orders, a "veggie burger" for her, and"scrambled eggs and ham" for lonely boy, she tilted her head. Straining to hear the buzz of her phone above the hum of the restaurant as people talked and muddled about. Snapping open the silver clasp she reached for her cell, it was indeed ringing. Suspecting it to be Hansen she was fully prepared to toss the offending electronic into the nearest trashcan, upon flipping it over she was confused by the unknown number, flipping it open.

"Hello?"

"Hey B" She froze, dropping Brooklyn's hand automatically, lips perched as Serena's flamboyant voice floated through the earpiece. Why was she calling? The last time that Blair had heard anything of her ex-best friend she had been on a plane headed for Brown University. How did she even get her cell number? Her head throbbed as a variety of questions and concerns sifted through her thoughts.

"Serena?" _God could I sound any more gaping? _Her heart was thrumming against her ribcage, worry spreading through her veins like wildfire, "What's wrong?"

There was a pause and then a lively giggle as if to swat away any possible emergencies.

"You know it's been too long when the first call you make is presumably a bad one."

Shaking her head she tried to tip off the axis she was teetering on, soothe her pulse. Looking up from the table she relaxed her tensed arm to reach over, caressing Cabbage patch's cheek, setting her hand on his. His eyes were narrowed, attention caught on the call she was focusing on and the way she had immediately frowned. "It's Serena" She mouthed and he nodded once, turning his concentration to the newspaper that he had snatched from an empty table next to them.

"Listen, I wanted to compliment you on the dress you wore to the reunion dinner last night since I didn't get a chance to talk to you. It was absolutely gorgeous. Oscar De Larenta?"

After the horrid events that had transpired the most she could remember was being out of breath, stumbling and disoriented from Chuck's hold as she slipped out of the bathroom and away from the scene. With each stride she was grasping straws to get as far away from the past as could be managed. All she had wanted to do was run, and she had.

"Thank you but it's actually a piece from my upcoming spring collection."

"Oh right. There was a piece on you in the New York Times a few months ago. Eric told me of it."Her tone was formal, severed at polite and seething through with a faux happiness.

It was as though Blair were speaking to Lily and not the carefree best friend she had spent most every waking minute with since kindergarten. Then again they hadn't spoken for a considerable amount of time and as two people often did when such a gap in time was associated, the act was broached with fresh eyes and a shy smile. It was the socialite way. Scandal ebbed with the tide as did friendships. Everything was interchangeable and easily forgiven.

"I would be lying" Serena confessed, "If I didn't have an ulterior motive in regards to this call." A few silent breaths followed, "I was hoping you would be able to find some time next week to perhaps catch up over lunch."

Blair bit her lip, thinking of her weekly schedule momentarily, "I'm free for a couple of hours a week from today."

"Great!"

As the details were were discussed and finalized, she ended the call, feeling the lure of insecurity drudging forward once more. Even at twenty-eight she couldn't deny feeling smaller and less significant next to, or even within the same city, as a five-foot-eleven pale blonde goddess who still managed to have everything with just a whimsical beam and a toss of her locks. Blonde's were always the fantasy after all.

The soundtrack of the restaurant served to bring her back into the present thankfully as Dan stared at her, a concerned look on his face. "What did she want?"

"We're going for lunch together next week."

"Oh" He said with nonchalance, "Why?"

She leaned back into the booth as a flabby arm dispensed plates of food in front of them.

"I don't know, she said something about wanting to catch up." Taking a sip of water she speared a french fry with her fork.

"God. I saw her at the reunion" He said, "She's married now to some foreign guy, a shipping heir or maybe it was fish."

"I didn't see anyone aside fr-" She bit her tongue, not wanting to break the subject open for discussion, "Anyway, I've got to go after brunch."

"Brunch?" Brooklyn cocked an eyebrow, a bemused smile on his lips as he cut a piece of ham and popped it in his mouth.

"Yeah, this is brunch isn't it?" She parried, taking a bite out of her burger after unfolding a napkin on her lap.

"It's Thursday..."

"And?"

"Brunch is like, specifically for Sunday's isn't it?"

"Well I don't know, you're eating breakfast and I'm kind of eating lunch"

"Can I ask you something?" He inquired.

"Mmm?"

"Why do we even have to call it anything?"

A simple question and if she hadn't sensed the layers beneath it she would have scoffed. Why _did _she have to call it anything? In her head it had been labeled "going out for brunch" when it could have just been "going out to eat" or "spending the morning with Dan," but no she had automatically given it a title. Everything in her life had a different category and she was bringing the same rituals where they didn't belong.

An unfolded napkin on her lap, a glass of water that had been moved from her right side to her left because it had been incorrectly placed. As much as she wished to walk away from these things, the golden bars of her cage, she was implementing them wherever they didn't naturally reside.

Placing her food back on the plate she crumpled up the napkin and threw it into the aisle, moving her water glass back from her left to the right where it had originated from. Exhaling deeply, with these two uncomplicated actions she was lessening the hold her upbringing had imposed. Breaking off an unnecessary part of herself that didn't need to switched on in that second. It wasn't the time or the place.

With Lonely boy and his toothy smile, a cup of steaming black coffee in his palm, no cream and no sugar, she could just be Blair. Button down plaid, black converse wearing and messy hair and all. Something that had yet to be defined, if ever it would need to be.

_Not-so-lonely boy anymore_ she chided, kneeling on the seat of the booth, craning her neck as her lips met his with uncontrolled force, a sweet sigh from his throat drifting into her mouth.

* * *

"What?" Hansen breathed through gritted teeth, "You're" He pointed to her, "You." He was pacing back and forth and in true Marls fashion completely stunned at how fast reality could hit, "Are breaking up with me?" His tone rose, voice cracking as his face turned red.

Shifting her weight onto her left foot she glanced down at the suitcases that lined the entryway, "Do you not speak English? I've said it seven times. Yes Hansen, I_" _Pointing a slim index finger to her own chest "am breaking up with you."

"You can't do this" He seethed, eyes bulging. "I'm fucking Hansen Marls! You need me babe."

"No actually" She laughed, "I don't. Never did. Now could you please get out?"

"Or what?" It was a challenge uttered with the belief that he, a powerful wolf by his own account, had been left in a room with a defenseless deer. Moving towards her, certain of the control he held above her head. The smile fading from her lips fast, stepping back hurriedly from his approach.

"You're going to break a leg if you come a foot closer." A familiar voice warned, slinking his arms around her waist just as building security entered her penthouse. Hansen growled in rage as a hand rested on his shoulder, he shrugged it off, "Don't fucking touch me."

She smirked, watching as the last stupid man in her life was extracted from her presence. Off to enjoy his lifestyle completely alone until some infatuated fan came within earshot, a girl he could promptly marry and divorce for a flaky model. Or at least to enjoy a few too many at a bar in midtown tonight.

"Whatever Blair, you're going to miss me when I'm gone" He hollered, the back of his head getting smaller and smaller as he walked further and further away.

"I'm really not" She called as he stuck his middle finger up at her, the security guards hauling his bags onto a waiting trolley.

* * *

She turned to Dan, leaping into his arms. He didn't know what to make of anything, how to explain it to himself and so the man of a million words was left without a single one as he worked to slow his thoughts into understandable meanings. Pressing his lips to her pale forehead as she squirmed into his shoulder, inhaling greedily what she had referred to as her favorite smell. Him.

"This is" He whispered into her ear, able to verbalize but not quite sure of what his next words were going to be, "Real" She breathed, and he left it at that. All that their was to be said had been summarized into three words and it didn't feel one or the other to him, only right.

She jumped from his arms and onto the points of her red heels, the black converse she had worn to breakfast that morning hidden away in his messenger bag,

"Boyfriend" She giggled, grabbing his hand. He couldn't think.

"Yes Girlfriend?"

"I don't think you've ever been in my bedroom before" He wanted her, all of her. In Brooklyn in his loft, at her penthouse on Park Avenue.

"No" He answered, "I don't believe I have." With that she pulled him down the hall, kicking off her heels at the french doors as she tugged on the buttons his blazer, shedding him of it.

They had been apart for less than five hours and he was rabid, it had been too long and now as she undid the zipper of her Marc Jacobs dress and it fell from her shoulders nothing else mattered but the the feel of her beneath him.

Blair Cornelia Waldorf an Upper East Side princess and his _girlfriend._

* * *

**Author's Note**: Sorry about all the updates. I just wanted to refresh the story a little bit before posting again. The response I received for chapter seven was absoloutley amazing, you guys are really _fantastic_! Thanks so much for the read and drop me a review if you have some time (:


	9. Keep your opinions to yourself

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip Girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.**

* * *

**

**Vickie**: Do you ever wish you were a lesbian? Don't you think it would be so much easier?  
**Lelaina**: Sometimes, but I don't know. I could never go through with it. I'd start laughing or something.  
**Vickie:** That is such a shame because I have had it with men.

Chapter Nine:

No matter the seemingly concrete idealisms of a plan, its strength and reliability, its presence and imposition into your being from the first breath, loyalty lies only in the true nature of change. Being born into a prominent family she was placed atop a house of cards boasting never to fall. There would be no question of her love or determination, she was her own person and yet in many ways she belonged more to those around her than to herself.

At twelve years old Blair Waldorf was engaged. Betrothed in every unspoken sense to the first boy who had shared her lunch in kindergarten, the first pair of male hands that guided her around a glittering ballroom in fourth grade. Nathaniel Archibald. He was the season of firsts until Serena, before Chuck and as desperately as she had yearned for the realization of the Vanderbilt engagement ring slipping onto her barren finger, a declaration of love and devotion lined with old money and a childhood sweetheart. The movie of her life had taken on unscripted re-writes and the expectant weight of the diamond amid her promised marriage dissolved quickly.

At seventeen she lost her virginity to Charles Bass in the back of his limo. That same year Nate rounded off with Vanessa, a liberal artist who felt somehow that she was above the squandering scandals of the rich and entitled, the facade was irritating to Blair but upheld with a presumptuous smile. Serena frequently disappeared her penthouse, for that matter the city, in new found favour of tropical accommodations. A river ran through it. Separating those who were once inseparable, neither parties desiring to bridge the gap as it only grew wider.

At eighteen, shortly after she was wait-listed for Yale upon Serena's refusal for admission and Nelli Yuki's acceptance, the Queen B found herself so far away from everything she had thought she would want. Deviating from the path she had been conditioned to follow her entire life. The daydreams she had built upon from six years old evoking deep scoffs as she spent her days blissfully lost in the arms of a man who's past boasted an identical slew of experiences. For the first time in her life at almost nineteen, the true nature of change revealed itself to her.

Stepping into the lobby of the palace hotel, Blair swiftly cut past the reception and down the marble hall towards the famed Gilt restaurant. Her glossy chestnut hair pinned back from her fox-like face as her gloved hand moved to push open the looming glass doors. Automatically pausing at the threshold she inhaled deeply, feeling the air fill her lungs slowly. Briefly closing her eyes she squared back her shoulders, stood tall on the point of her heels and pressed towards the hostess. All of the quivering hesitation peeled from her flesh at the door.

She was led her to the furthermost corner, detached slightly from the bustling hum as those who could, dined on the finest foods. Dan had reminded her of Serena's condition before she had left the penthouse that morning but as the distance between the brunette and the blonde grew shorter and shorter she found herself little less than shocked even still as Serena scrambled to rise from her chair.

"B!" It vibrated with excitement, falling onto her cheeks and turning them red with flattery at the old nickname. Serena's long blonde hair swaying lightly as she enclosed Blair in her grasp as best as could be managed with a blooming stomach between the two. A few anxious beats past before Serena released her capture and allowed Blair to unhook her jacket buttons and shrug out of the fabric.

"S" She said, taking a seat in the opposite chair, "You look amazing."

Serena laughed, the same laugh Blair could remember her having when they were five and battling over Barbie dolls or raiding closets and playing dress up with Eleanor's latest designs. It was oddly comforting to be bombarded by these memories, to be in a room with someone who had known you practically since birth, people were rarely kept around past a second holiday in her life anymore.

"I feel like a whale" Serena whimpered, "The last few weeks are always the hardest though."

"Oh?" Blair answered, taking a sip of the sweating Perrier glass that sat to her left.

"This is my third," She elaborated as though she could delve behind B's brown eyes and read her mind, "Two girls. This is my boy"

She was a mother. The girl whom B had grown up beside, whom both had spent considerable amounts of time questioning their own mothers and hiding from nannies and now ... she had her own children to do the same.

When they were kids she had thoroughly envied Serena's lack of structure, her ability to see and do as she pleased. Be anyone that she wanted with the freedom to change her mind at any moment without any repercussions. Now as she sat across from the same woman, she couldn't stir those feelings once more. Instead a radiating happiness pushed at her for Serena had managed to choose the life she lived instead of revolving inside the one that was handed to her.

"Wow S that's fantastic," She said emphatically, "You're a mom."

Exhaling deeply Serena's hands moved to rest on the crest of her swollen belly. Her blue eyes slid quickly down and then back up, a new shimmer in them and a beam on her lips.

"I'm a mom."

Upon ordering their meals the same complicated gaze glued itself to Blair once more as she handed her menu to the waiting server.

"I honestly can't believe you're a designer now," Her eyes squinted as if still uncertain of this fact, "Blair Waldorf of Waldorf designs."

"Yeah" A weak chuckle was managed, "Eleanor dropped her first name from the line once I joined up."

"It definitely makes sense in that way," Serena exclaimed, "I just thought..." There was a pause. "I just-well, at seventeen you wanted to be the furthest thing from you're mom as you could get right ? So I thought maybe you had gone into law like you always wanted."

Blair's pulse quickened and she swallowed hard, tracing circles around the bottom of her glass. On second thought some things old friends knew where better left unsaid.

"No no" She repeated, a rushed explanation, "Strictly fashion."

"Well" Serena exhaled with a grin, "That's still absolutely fantastic B. Erik reads all the editorials about you, I think he even scrapbooks them. I try to get around to it too but there just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day."

Catching glimpse of a departure from the particular subject Blair grasped at straws eagerly.

"What are their names?" it was a soft inquiry, aware of the petty act that was bringing up someone's offspring in order to deviate away from the conversational topic they were floating on but pushing onward with it regardless.

"Gracie Alice and Rose Hannah."

"Awe those are beautiful names S," She gushed.

Time slowly scraped along as words fell from Serena's glossed lips. The only way Blair was sure of it's melted progression was the continual movement around her. Tables emptying and re-set, new faces surrounding her.

The last ten years had meant little more than work, social obligation and a rush of press conferences, interviews and model fittings. While Serena who seemed more so the type to indulge in aspects of such a lifestyle had been rather pre-occupied with settling down. As far as Blair was told her husband's name was Alex Warren, a direct relative of the Vanderbilt family and they had met while on vacation in the Swiss Alps seven years ago.

Although it was definitely an elongated stray from the life Serena had wanted back when they were best friends she assuredly said, "I wouldn't have things any other way." Clearing away the unexpected doubts that sat around them diligently, if only to re-assure herself of this.

It wasn't until their meals were finished and taken away that Serena turned, her expression blank as she covered Blair's hand with her own, leaning into the curving table as she spoke.

"Chuck's getting married." It was so against the grain of their conversation that Blair felt all the words, all the actions; flee her immediately. Wait- what? Surely it was a joke.

Her tongue felt like lead, glued to the roof of her mouth as Serena watched carefully for her reaction.

"To-" Her voice barely above a whisper, "To who?"

"Vanessa." Vanessa, Vanessa? The same Vanessa who was a scholarship case at school, wore combat boots and once led her into a dingy barbershop where she instructed the greasy man to completely shave her head, that one? Supposedly there was no other girls with the same name that she knew, but really? No.

Her mouth went dry as she nodded, smiling weakly before gulping down the remaining red wine in her glass.

"That's wonderful," Damn her voice cracked! _Keep your cool Blair_, she chided.

"Not really" Serena fell into the back of her chair, pulling at a strand of hair as she spoke, "It's dreadful."

There was a lengthy pause and Blair resisted the urge to run.

The silence was broken with, "He doesn't love her." And just then she knew where this was going, already formulating an excuse to leave. "He never stopped loving you."

Blair felt flushed, angry at suddenly being ambushed with the mention of his name. Chuck Bass. Could nobody see that it was all over between the two of them? She drew the hardness into her eyes and with a quivering voice she said, "If he put you up to this," It was an uttered warning.

"Of course not. I'm just worried about this marriage that's all, knowing what I know and I just can't ..."

"Can't what?" Her voice rose quickly, "Can't leave things be? Whatever was between us Serena, that was years ago" She didn't stop, afraid that if there was even a slight delay she would loose the fervour. "It's been over for a long time. Not that it's any of your business but I'm seeing somebody and Charles," His name slid from her lips emphatically, "Is no longer of my concern."

She stood, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair, "Now if you'll excuse me I have a meeting to attend to." With that she paid her tab and stepped out of the hotel, ignoring Serena's calls as she clambered onto the street. Feeling safer by the step as she moved away from the Palace, away from the memories that waited obediently for her there.

Men. Men. Ugh. Chuck Bass. Would she ever be able to escape him? Maybe women really only needed men like fish needed bicycles ... it was logical enough. This thought evoked Dan and fizzled out her upset. All she wanted to do was be in his arms then, she yearned for it. The one piece of her past she didn't want to give up, couldn't bear to leave behind now that she held it firmly in her hands.

Hailing a taxi she gave the driver instructions, "1174 Retting Ave. Williamsburg Brooklyn, please." To his loft, his king sized bed and his bowls of Mr. Noodles. Who's brown eyes asked for nothing more than her love and food didn't cost eight-five dollars a plate.

* * *

**Author's Note: **As per usual thanks to everyone who's subscribed/reviewed/read this story so far! You guys are fanstastically amazing ;) Thoughts, feedback? PS. This is unbeta'd so all the mistakes are my own!


	10. Humphrey vs Fashion

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gossip girl, just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into!

Happy Reading.

* * *

Along came love, she had yearned for so long, she felt on fire  
She'd do anything for him

He was close as the label in a shirt, never left her side  
He would lace handkerchief in the rain if she ever walked by  
He'd do anything for her

Hold back and kiss slow  
The lights out in your cold heart now

Stuck in a world that would pull them apart, and it cost in time  
If only they knew that ahead loomed a cloud that was as black as night  
She'd do anything for him

They were strong, they could take on the world and put up a fight  
And even the clouds couldn't stand in the way when they held on tight  
He'd do anything for her  
**-White Diamonds**

Chapter Ten:

For the first time in several weeks, the laptop balancing on Dan's knees didn't take on a blunt offensive air. Instead, it had transformed into a welcoming plateau, upon which, words fell from his thoughts; settling heartily on the blanks in front of him.

The work was tedious at first – having to ease the character from his mind as if she were genuinely in front of him, the brisk air whirling around her brunette tresses.

To be fair, she had been standing in front of him hours earlier. Her head tilted to the side, a mug cupped between her pale hands. Blair. She consumed him, filled a page and then the second, fourth, seventh; until satisfaction no longer relied on the amount of accomplished work he processed. Rather, the inspiration that pulsed through him feverishly.

His fingers ached and his mouth ran dry, but he did not think thoroughly of these things or the close proximity to which caffeine happened to be. Shivering beneath the flimsy material of his housecoat he stopped momentarily, hands frozen over the keyboard. Quickly, he moved to close the window in front of him – kicking the switch on the heater underneath his desk with the tip of his toe.

Earlier on, as the cities' rumbles grew with the rising sun, poetry had fanned from him, now safely stowed away in the depth of his computer documents as he stood; quickly pushing away the inspiration long enough to retrieve a cup of coffee and a bagel.

* * *

Blair couldn't breathe – she was perched on the edge of the bathroom counter, her head in her hands, hyperventilating.

The morning had started out so fantastically and had somehow taken a detour straight into an afternoon of complete and utter disaster. She didn't know what to think – couldn't – she just needed to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

"I thought I'd find you in here" Victoria exclaimed softly, her thin arms wrapping around Blair's shoulders tightly. She breathed in the flowery scent of perfume, sobbing hard as she rested on Victoria's chest.

"Everything's going to be fine." Blair nodded but remained superbly unconvinced. Everything seemed to be falling apart.

"S-seven designs" she cried, "s-seven!"

Seven pieces of her collection, a third of the entire thing, fucked up by her incompetent staff, dropping her back on square one just a few days before the debut. It was ridiculous and she was beyond angry – so frustrated that she was crying at work - which was practically unacceptable.

"I just couldn't stay in there for another second. I would have just fired everyone – I don't need any of them anyway, right?"

Vix laughed, producing a chocolate bar from the back pocket of her jeans. Blair broke off a piece, the milk chocolate melting on her tongue. It was just what she needed, even if it came at an extra pound or two.

She moved back from the embrace, "except from you Vix – I'll always need you."

A few strands of Victoria's red hair fell from the barrette that held it and curled at the base of her throat. She was a tall southern bell, whom Blair had met during freshman year when she had arrived at her supposedly "single" dorm only to find a roommate.

Originally, in true Waldorf nature, she had absolutely despised the girl - only to be caged inside for months at a time together. Connecticut's rain pelting against the windows, preceded by downfalls of snow four feet thick. A friendship during her first winter away from home that had yet to find weakness.

"I just can't – "

Vick quickly interjected, "Baila you'll get it done" she assured, handing Blair a few pieces of toilet paper.

"Two days," the idea was dreadful, hours ahead of her that entailed reworking that which she had already completed a few weeks earlier. She dabbed at her eyes, panic thrumming in the pit of her stomach at the continued thought.

It had to be done and she would do it. Perfection was the driving force behind her work, her fashion; it was the one place in her life she could control, where chaos failed to rise from the floorboards.

Dan. She would have to call and cancel their dinner tonight. Shit. He had been planning it for a week but what else could she do? Her work came first, and sometimes she hated herself for it but it was a part of her.

It was the ease that came with arranging your life around something rather than easing something into it. 'Waldorf designs' was her solitary means, it had defined her for the past seven years and boyfriend or not she wasn't just going to let it slide into oblivion. After all it was her last name too.

"So," Vix broke the silence, "who're you gonna fire?"

"Gerry" she sighed, "he's the one who messed everything up."

"Yeah fuck Gerry, he's an idiot."

Blair swatted at her, laughing, "Exactly."

"See you out there?" she nodded as Vic smiled and turned towards the door.

She was alone with her thoughts once more. Carefully, she fit her public image back into place after a few minutes of uninterrupted silence, no longer feeling the vulnerability that had come in mounds a few minutes earlier.

Free to be Blair Waldorf, she chided to herself ironically. Free – the last thing she truly was - as she opened the door.

Ready, set, go.

* * *

He had no real idea as to what he was doing and yet somehow it all made sense in an illogically logical way. Dan had dived head-first into the darkness and was presently occupied with fragments of words and plots, piecing themselves together in his head.

The woman who spoke so clearly, stood so defiantly against the monotone backdrop that she was irresistible, the reasoning man beside her and a progressive city surrounding them.

Macy & Harrison, the protagonists to his developing plot, a fresh story in the face of the abandonment of his headlining and might he had, contracted, novel.

He was exhilarated by it, the inspiration that flourished inside his veins. The idea's that flew at him furiously, demanding to be recorded, included, needed. In the distance the discordant ring of his phone could be heard, sluggishly, he rose and trudged into the kitchen, picking it off the counter.

"Hello?" He glanced back at the pages sprawled on the coffee-table, as to make sure the night air did little to whisk them away.

"Did you see Blair Waldorf at the reunion?" There was a frank heaviness to Jenny's tone as she asked.

Shit. Shit. What?

"Uh I think so yeah," _What are you doing?!_ "Hello to you too" he added haughtily.

"Yeah hi, Nate and I just got an invitation to her show." He was uncomfortable, not knowing entirely how to broach the subject that sat idly in front of him.

Blair had been apprehensive about the runway and they had seen very little of each other for the past few weeks. All that could be heard from her were take-out orders and pay-per-view preferences when moments were snagged. Aside from the late night phone calls whenever she had an anxiety attack and needed a soothing voice.

They didn't speak of it – any of the preparations. What he knew was only relayed when she had been sobbing and her words hardly audible, the desire stronger to hold her in his arms than it had ever been before.

Just that afternoon she had called to cancel on a romantic dinner he had been planning for several weeks. All in lieu of a disaster that had rendered her designs short a couple of days from the show.

He had been upset for an hour, angry even – but he had come to understand eventually. Her work was her life and he couldn't expect her to give up a piece of herself for him.

Standing there in his robe, with coffee-stained teeth and bits of bagel sitting on his chin whiskers, he couldn't tell any of that to his sister.

"Ah" it was hardly a response but her impromptu rant continued.

"Well I don't know. I thought maybe you had seen her or something, because I asked Nate and he says that he didn't."

"I saw her very briefly. She uh, said something about getting the 'ol gang' back together."

It was a terrible lie and the second it came from his lips he wanted to suck it right back under his tongue.

"The gang?" her tone was sharp – disbelieving.

"Um, like you and Nate, Vanessa, Erik and Serena, the 'gang'."

"Oh, well" he could tell she didn't want to sound oblivious to this idea, "I guess that makes sense."

_WAMBAM! JEDI MIND TRICK MASTER DANIEL HUMPHREY, SAY WHAT?_

"So you're going too then?" she asked.

He took a sip of his coffee, the warmth trailing down his throat, "I got my invitation this morning."

The second Jenny hung up he dialled Blair's number, praying she wouldn't kill him, or at the very least hate him for the rest of his life. She had been pretty stressed lately – such was followed by a type of inability to predict the outcome of her reactions …

* * *

It had been done, completed with a singularly relenting breath. She placed the pen on her desk as she licked the last envelope, handing it off to a US mail carrier. Invitations that would soon make their way into mailboxes, freshly pressed into the hands of uniformed doormen and presented on silver platters by butlers and maids.

She was glad for her residency in New York if nothing else, where else in the world could you get a mail carrier at six thirty in the morning?

It wouldn't be a horrible thing to pepper in a few extra seats in the first row. Admitantly she missed Erik, adored him to the core and wondered what he had spent the last ten years doing. After the lunch with Serena she had a slight moment of hardship in letting that slip from her hands but ultimately she had.

Vanessa Abrams was another story entirely, she would have full out rejected that idea – no matter Dan's personal opinion, had she not heard that Abrams had acquired a press-pass and would be one of several photographers stationed at the end of the runway.

Nothing could be done about it, nothing she would allow herself to do anyway. The press would be all over it if she banned a random woman, rumours would fly.

However, she briefly considered placing a restriction on anyone with Chuck Bass' physical description, but realized that would include a number of celebrities. She was in no mood to leave things up to chance but she had it on good authority that he was hardly involved in Vanessa's work. She would only breathe a sigh of relief if he didn't manage to show up – no point in getting excited just yet.

The sun had yet to raise into the sky, stuck beneath blooming grey clouds, the residual keepings of a curt winter in the city. She had been poised over her sewing machine since the sun had set the day before, functioning purely on her seventh cup of coffee - black with copious amounts of sugar. It was a particular fixing that she had become addicted to, thanks to a certain Brooklyn boy.

A few hours later she woke from a listless sleep, arms outstretched towards the thin creases of forgotten dreams. Slowly, she climbed from her bed and into the kitchen. A stewing pot of tea sat dutifully on the stove as Dorota perched at the breakfast table with the New York Times in her hands.

Blair's throat was dry and scratchy; she pulled a cup from above the sink and poured some tea into it, stirring milk and spooning some honey in too. The bitter sweet concoction fell down her throat in hasty gulps as she gazed out the bay windows. The weather seemed unwelcoming of any mention of spring; wind stirred fallen leaves into the air as rain pelted the glass. Unfortunate, but the show would go on; it would just involve heavier coats.

"Morning" she swiftly peeled the arts section from the paper, grazing over its contents with a lazy yawn.

"Good morning Ms. Blair," Dorota replied, sipping at her tea, brown eyes peeking up at her.

She put down the paper after a few minutes, feeling useless and unwanted. It was almost four in the afternoon; she had been all but banned for the next three hours. Thank-god she had left detailed and very crucial notes with Tabitha, her head assistant, who she could only pray was doing everything exactly the way she had described it.

According to Vix she became a raging maniac, changing her mind several million times until seconds before the lights went down. And so in Blair's best interest, due to her increased anxiety around spring collections, Vix had suggested thinking it over and writing down a concrete list of instructions to be delivered by currier along with the last seven designs.

It had all been finished that morning before she went to bed. Maybe she did get a little tyrannical but there was a name to uphold, a business to keep in tact and so many people to please. After all she would still arrive on set a good two hours before the show began; enough time to make sure everything was perfect. Besides, she did pay people for a reason right, this reason - the completion of the dirty work without a worry.

"Ms. Blair, do not worry" Dorota said evenly, "your show will be great."

What if the designs hadn't made it to the hall, what if she had to propose a show designs short of her promised collection. How could Dorota possibly know anything when she herself had never been more uncertain?

Blair exhaled, taking an elongated sip before asking, "Do you really think so? I mean you've seen everything in various states of completion and I – well I want to know what you really think."

"They were," she quickly corrected her tense, "are beautiful Ms. Blair, you are much talented."

She let this arrange around her. Instil what confidence it could before looking up from the countertop, she offered a weak smile, plucking a bran muffin from the plate in the center. She nibbled at it in further analysis, giving herself something to think of beside the show.

"Thank-you Dorota."

* * *

As a graduate of St. Jude's one of the most prestigious schools in the nation, having had dated a few heiresses from that of Upper East Side descent in his youth, Dan had never really been to a fashion show before. At twenty-eight and living in Brooklyn he liked to shop at tiny thrift shops on his side of the bridge and was a proud fan of pull-over sweaters and plaid.

The whole concept of trends seemed a pointless endeavour to him. He wore what he wanted; fuck everyone else and their opinions. Oddly enough he was inside one of the most prominently buzzed about fashion shows in an Armani suit. No plaid, no pullovers, no jeans.

"Dan!" He turned, scanning the crowds for Jenny, whom he spotted near the front of the row.

"You're next to us," she smiled, patting the seat next to her. At least his girlfriend had placed him next to people who could guide him easily through the night.

"Snazzy, man" Nate flashed his brilliant smile, Dan shrugged in response.

"I was going for successfully modest." To be honest, he called Jenny for fashion advice, who had promptly rushed over with several suits.

He had rolled his eyes and sighed for the duration of the hour but had relented to wearing the one she had picked for him.

"_You cannot" she said as he changed into what seemed like his tenth suit, "just show up to one of these things – all well – you."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" he parried, stepping out of the bathroom. As far as he could tell there was no difference between this suit and the very first one she had tried on. _

"_It means," she motioned for him to turn, "that flannel and denim haven't been 'in' since 1994."_

"_There is nothing wrong with my clothing Jen."_

"_Your opinion, but it is definitely all sorts of wrong for an appearance at a fashion show." She shook her head, pulled another suit from the couch and threw it at him._

"_Try this; I think it's the one."_

_He grumbled, marching into the bathroom, "So what if I don't adhere to a specific set of standards and tastes, it's not like a super huge freakin' deal."_

But apparently, when your girlfriend is Blair Waldorf, you can't deny that it's one of the bigger deals. Truthfully he wouldn't be here if she wasn't his – both as a woman and a muse.

If she didn't happen to be the beauty that had designed, created and orchestrated this entire thing he would very well have shown up in faded jeans and a torn sweater. Okay – in that scenario he wouldn't even be here.

Yet another way his life had been changed.

* * *

"BLAIR," someone was calling her name. She spit the pin from between her lips and tacked it on the underside of a pant leg. She stood up, brushing the dust from her legs, "good to go." The leggy blonde smiled and walked off to the makeup department.

Dahlia, Tabitha's assistant, pushed past the chaos and took stance in front of Blair, a model behind her. "I've lost the accessory to this dress and I can't find it," she was all but pulling her hair out at the words.

She glanced over the outfit, "don't panic Dahl, that's my job."

The headset buzzed nosily as several on floor assistants reported the guests as they began to file into the tent. The wind had relented since the afternoon but the rain still fluttered towards the ground.

She frantically took the ornament out of her own hair and adjusted it to the model's curls with certainty. One crisis averted.

Dahlia was just one of several people who had come only to take a piece of her frayed calm along with them. Although she was in her element it was as though she were standing naked in the center of Times Square.

There was little time to think, her show was at the point where there was nothing more to do but go with the flow. Six months of work that boiled down to eight hours and one collection. She looked at her watch – five minutes to go.

"Let's go everyone!" She called, feeling anxiety pulse through her. She inhaled deeply. In. Out. And took stance at the front of the line. The models walked past several of her employee's, lint brushes in hand, scanning outfits and fixing loose strands of hair.

She was at the helm, the final stage, and she still felt exposed. Vulnerable. The cue music began and the lights lowered, she adjusted the corner of a blazer before mouthing 'go' as the blonde walked into the flashes and down the runway.

* * *

Serena was late as she carefully made her way down the aisle just as the first model moved towards the end of the runway. A man was supporting her, helping move her belly towards the front. There was something familiar about him, as if Dan had spent time around him at some point or another. His name was on the time of his tongue and yet he couldn't ebb it into consciousness.

"Oh my god" Jenny exclaimed, "its Erik and Serena."

Erik, Erik Van Derwoodsen, Serena's little brother? He squinted, trying to place the kid he had known with the man who was quickly approaching. No such luck.

"Hey guys" Serena gushed, plopping into a seat next to him, "man it's packed in here. I think we just saw Madonna."

"And Lourdes," Erik added, although he was older his voice still held the same youthful tone; Serena slowly unclasped her arm from his and settled further into her seat.

"Hey S," Jenny exclaimed, "my god you look just about ready to pop."

She laughed, brushing her bangs out of her eyes, "I'll be lucky if I don't have him right on the runway."

Erik unbuttoned his blazer and sat next to her, "Oh but it would be _such_ a fantastic story sis."

"Erik," Nate nodded in his direction, offering his hand, "great to see you."

"You too, so Mr. and Mrs. Archibald huh, I always thought it would happen."

"Oh shush," Jenny whispered, "you did not."

"Dan," he turned, smiling at Serena's brother, who watched him closely, "how are you?"

"Well I'm just fine, and you're all grown up. I barely recognized you."

"Well that _is_ generally what happens" Erik laughed, "and I barely recognized you myself."

With the introductions over, everyone's attention turned to the runway, as a fourth model made her way towards the photographers. On the other side of the stage Dan noted several celebrities, everyone from Lady gaga to that twilight guy.

_Weird._

Blair was a real celebrity after all; he supposed he shouldn't feel like a loser. Watching her collection as it was admired by people with real credentials made him want to shout from the rooftops that he loved her. He almost needed everyone to know as it was anyway.

And she was the best thing about him, the best thing to happen to him. Was it too soon to say that, to even think it? It had only been a month and yet he had never been surer of anything.

With Beth it had taken a year and even then as he had said it there was a silent quivering in it, a flimsy unknowing. He had been nervous for the past few weeks – where could a kid from Brooklyn fit into a socialite's life? But as he sat there, surrounded by famous people in ridiculously expensive clothing – he fit – a little awkwardly. But even if it was in a fluke spot he had at least managed to wedge himself somewhere.

Her world was not his own and yet it wasn't as difficult as he dreamed it would be. To adore her, need her. Was it crazy to fall in love so fast?

It was so hard to differentiate these days. As a boy he had always felt that the older somebody got, the stupider they became. Only with the wisdom that supposedly came with age, everyone just decided to call it "being clever."

Maybe all he was doing was being utterly clever about his feelings.

The last model came backstage and down to the end of the line as the applause started, it roared through the air like electricity. Then, all 27 models were making their way down the runway for the last time that night.

The only audible sound to Blair was the pulsing of the blood in her veins as she made her way into the spotlight. She was at the end of the runway, directly behind was her last name, WALDORF DESIGNS.

She was floating on electricity as her pumps met the glossy floor, surrounded and engulfed by the attention. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from the happiness, the smile that curved her lips as she waved furiously to the crowds.

It was finished. All the stress, late nights, and the coffee she had consumed in efforts to stay awake, and this was it. The end result – the reason behind it all, everything had clicked into place just when she was worried it wouldn't.

She stood at the center of the runway, arm extended and waving, blinded by the flash of cameras. Her smile was brighter than it all; she had been taken from under her rock and given it her all. Back to the sketch board after a few months – how ridiculous was it that she was thinking about winter designs in the very minute she was enjoying the coming of spring?

And she looked for Dan in the sea of faces and found him looking up at her. Grinning, he nodded once and she half-curtsied in response, drinking in his smile as she counted breaths and spoke.

"Thank you everyone, thank you."

With those words she turned and moved towards backstage, the loud applause heightening as she exited. The best feeling in the world that nothing could ever replace and it was all hers to display and covet, hold as close as she could for days to come.

* * *

"But the paparazzi?" her hand clutched his tighter, a swift laugh falling from her lips. The light caught the apples in her cheeks perfectly, Blair was radiant.

"Fuck the paparazzi, this isn't about them – it's about us."

His mouth opened slightly, to his recollection that was the first time he had heard her swear. In his presence she had yet to utter anything more than a distracted 'frack.'

"Are you sure?" She turned to him, took his other hand in hers and brushed a soft kiss to his lips.

"I have _never_ been more sure of anything in my _entire_ life."

She stepped forward, holding his elbow as they made their way down the staircase. It was a matter of seconds before everyone in the room was glued to their movement. And then the applause started, breaking through the awkward film of judgement.

He glanced at Jenny, standing silently next to Nate, who had just finished piling a sausage roll into his mouth.

Blair grabbed two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and handed one to Dan. She held up her glass as an employee passed her a microphone. The rumbling noise quieting gradually as she started to speak.

"I'd just like to say that tonight was absolutely amazing," he stood there awkwardly as she continued, "and I could hardly have done it without my team. So this is to you, and a wonderful show that didn't go bottoms up – unlike the champagne."

Gentle chuckles erupted as she bent to put the mic on the floor, intertwining her hand with his once again as she downed the contents of her glass. Whispering low in his ear, "and to my boyfriend," her teeth bit his earlobe discreetly, "thank-you."

He nodded; as his heart skipped a beat.

On the Upper East Side, at an after party where class and money feigned precedence over humanity, he had found the one thing he needed the most. A void that he didn't even know existed, until she had filled it.

* * *

Serena winced. The baby had wedged his heel underneath her ribcage and was presently sitting on her bladder - she really, really needed to pee. The last twenty five minutes had been spent idly chatting up Dan and Blair, Blair and Dan – the _couple._

It was beyond weird, like she had stepped into some kind of alternate universe. And yet there they were, being happy in each other's arms, and after the initial shock had worn off there seemed to be naturalness to it.

The way he watched her; the tender caresses on her bare flesh, Serena grinned idiotically at the thought. It was exactly the way Alex still looked at her, even after several years of marriage.

She needed air, needed a moment to catch her breath and recollect her thoughts. So she had excused herself from the conversation and clambered into the street.

Currently standing as she was, on the sidewalk, clutching her purse and drinking in the fresh night air.

It was just then that Benjamin decided to play with her bladder and kick at her abdomen with surprising force. She leaned against the wall, using it to support her weight. Her skin was taunt over her bones and she was consistently uncomfortable.

The last few weeks were always the hardest.

Erik had suggested taking her home in the cab ride over but she had adamantly refused. He didn't push. She needed to apologize to Blair – to bridge the gap she had created by imposing Chuck's memory on the tabletop during their lunch.

God, what a bitch she had been to do that. What was she even thinking? Oh yeah, of course Blair will want him back, that's why she hasn't talked to him in eight years. Of course all they need is a little push and some 'parent trap' scenarios – that would fix everything.

She was with Dan, and happy. It didn't matter how many years they had spent apart – Serena would always know true happiness when she saw it in Blair's eyes. It managed to grow inside of her like a blooming tulip during spring.

She was beautiful.

And they were all supposed to be grown ups. Bass, brother or not, had made his own decisions. Choices that had led to the severing of Chuck & Blair the _couple_, and she would have to suck up her major dislike of Abrams if she wanted to build a tolerance for the woman.

She couldn't just throw a tantrum – try to stick her nose in places it didn't belong – when it really was none of her damn business.

Pregnant with her third child and she still acted like a seventeen year old sometimes.

"Sis" looking up from her feet she moved quickly to steady herself, rolling backwards a little, "sis are you okay?"

No.

"Chuck?" his hand fell to the small of her back, guiding her as she stood up straight. He took her purse and tucked it in his coat pocket, "what are you doing here?!"

She was panicking. _Please, please, please tell me you aren't here for who I think you're here for._

"What do you mean?" he cocked an eyebrow.

Ugh, trying to play dumb, really? She was pregnant – not blind or stupid.

"Chuck, don't" she seethed, "really."

"I really have no idea as to what you're talking about Serena; I'm here to see Vanessa."

Smooth, like honey. Damn his conversational skills and charm. Damn him, damn him.

"Bullshit. The name on that door is Waldorf, and I know you can read."

He turned his lips downward in a lopsided frown, "my intentions are entirely innocent."

She adjusted her coat, sucking in a breath, "oh right, because showing up at your ex-girlfriends when you're getting married is innocent! Thanks for clearing that one up."

She grimaced – apparently Ben thought he was a soccer player - or gearing up for some kind of physical sport straight out of the womb.

"Look, forget it" he answered sharply and with concern, "You never answered me. Are you alright?"

She pushed him away, huffing, "Ben's kicking a lot that's all."

He nodded once, his trademark scarf blowing in the wind.

"You look cold S; you shouldn't be out here, much less attending this particular event."

She turned her chin up, "Well I am."

"Evidently," he breathed, "let's get you inside."

She pushed at his chest, "no. You can give me my purse and I'll go inside. You can get right back into your limo and wait for _Vanessa_ back at the hotel."

She grabbed her clutch from his pocket, flashing a quick smile before turning towards the entrance.

"She's dating someone" she said gently, "Dan actually. Waldorf and Humphrey." She turned to look at him, "you need to stop hoping she'll come back to you."

He was still as stone, his hands in his pockets, the brisk air tugging at his scarf and rustling his hair in every direction. She hated this – having to tell him – but he needed to know. Needed to move on and try to be happy with his life.

Their era together as the reigning king and queen of the Upper East Side had officially ended, even if it had taken ten years. He needed to accept it.

* * *

**Authors note:** Hihihihihihihihi guys! I have no internet at the moment but I finally am managing to update :D In other news, hrm, so there's a bit to digest there but basically it's just Dan and Blair being all lalala happy (AS THEY SHOULD BE!) and of course Chuckness. Hrm. Theories thoughts? And I think it would be pretty incredible if I got some reviews so … leave me one, please? (: (:


	11. Love comes softly

Chapter Eleven:

A/N: I haven't updated since last year! Wow. Anyway, I am back and updating ... this is kind of a short chapter and it takes place four months after 'Humphrey Vs. Fashion.' So, it would be pretty incredible if I got some feedback guys! So please review if you have some time PS. I'm going to shamelessly plug my new Dair story right now and encourage everyone to check out, "In Between the Spaces" ! Happy reading (=

* * *

**Sam: **Someone told me once: Love is when you look back on all the great memories and find out that  
the one you least expected to fall in love with turns out to be the greatest love of your life.  
**Tess: **Geez, who made you king of sap-ville?  
**Sam:** You.

Blair had been drinking since noon, she realized with a silly grin, pouring another glass of wine and joining Dan on the couch.

"You know what?" He mused, "I think we're drunk." He opened his arms, allowing her to crawl into them. His chest flush against her own, the burning feel of each others' touch.

She giggled, throwing her head back on his shoulder. "Maybe, but today was a good day." The best yet.

Dan looked down at her, his eyes sparkling. "Yeah, it was. Definitely."

His lips brushed against hers, the sigh that stretched between them, soft and content. "I can't believe you've survived 4 months with a Waldorf," She mocked. It was a feat of sorts – according to some.

They clinked their glasses together, "I can't believe I've fallen in love with a Waldorf," he countered, sticking his tongue out. She swatted his arm. "I could say the same," She smiled, "The love of a Humphrey man, how disgusting."

Dan grabbed her glass, placing them both on the coffee table. He stood up, pulling her into his embrace. "Oh really," His teeth gently bit at the tip of her nose, "You _really_ think so?"

Blair leaned into his ear, trying to quiet her frenzied breathing. "Don't I ever."

"Well then," Dan stepped back, his hand on the small of her back. "I suppose I should just get going then," He shrugged, nonchalant.

She couldn't read his eyes as he ducked out of her arms and started collecting his clothes from the floor. She stood there, counting the seconds, her mouth poised to speak and yet no words forthcoming. Was he really just going to leave? Surely not.

Dan pulled on his jeans, hardly glancing up as he adjusted his belt, a seed of worry sprouting in the pit of her stomach. Maybe he had taken her seriously on some level, read something in her body language that gave way to false presumption.

When he got to the door, he turned around, shirt clutched in his fist. "Wait –"He laughed, "I live here!" Blair yelled, taking a running jump at him, wrapping her legs around his hips. She kissed the curve of his neck, "You're just a bully!" She cried.

He ran a hand through her hair, the loose waves that framed her face and trailed down her back. "So what if I am?" He replied, "You still love me don't you?"

She blushed, biting her bottom lip, the cherry lipstick smearing. "With all my heart," She said proudly, "even if you were about to leave me." She pouted, tightening her hold on him.

Dan pressed his forehead to hers, "I would never leave you, ever." And for the first time, no shadow of doubt washed over her, the words were as solid as his intention, the promise of forever kept.

He walked them to the bed, dropping her onto the sheets, hovering over her frame. He held his body weight in the muscles of his forearms.

Blair couldn't think, all she wanted was for him to touch her, close the distance between them. "How much do you love me?" He asked, his voice was soft, melting into the air around them.

"As much as you love me," She had no idea where this was going, "Maybe even a little more."

Dan smirked, brushing her bangs away from her eyes. "Impossible."

"Possible," She defended, "entirely."

"Then," He tilted his head to the side, cupping her cheek in his hand, "Will you do something for me?"

"Maybe," She half-smiled, her heart beating wildly against her ribcage. His finger trailed down her neck, towards her collarbone.

"Marry me?" He whispered, the words were so small, yet so significant, absorbing all the air in the room. Blair shot up, dizzy and light headed, Dan narrowly missed colliding with her, rolling off to the side.

"What?" She echoed, her voice sounding weird, strangled. "I can't marry you!" She turned towards him, trying desperately to grasp at fraying composure, "This -- today -- is our four month anniversary! Four months Dan!" The room was spinning.

He said something but it was so quiet that she couldn't focus on the words themselves. He wrapped his arms around her abdomen. They could not get married. They hardly knew each other. How .. preposterous ... shotgun ... unexpected! He couldn't be serious and then, her thoughts started to slow, laughter bubbling in her throat.

Dan shifted; he was in front of her now, seriousness in the browns of his eyes. If she were drunk two minutes ago she was certainly feeling every bit sober now. "Blair," He drawled, "I'm serious."

Her breath hitched, "'Serious?" She repeated.

He nodded.

She loved him, the plains of his face, the liquid eyes and black curls, but everything in her was shaking with anxiety. Marriage. Another part, arguably the better part, was screaming. It was telling her to kiss him, form words and stop sitting there like a partially naked idiot while he waited - on her word - on what _she_ wanted.

The past four months of their relationship had been absolute bliss. They had settled into a life together, as public as it had to be, while keeping every bit of each other private. Dan stirred a new strength in her, a daring need but he never withheld. They hardly fought, on a serious level anyway.

So unlike Chuck, very different from anything she'd previously come to know.

So ... what was she waiting for?

She could sit there for hours, months, maybe even years and she wouldn't find an answer. There was no reason to deny him this, to deny herself this. She loved him, that's all that mattered.

The barrier broke.

"Ask me again," She demanded, her voice low and hoarse.

"What?" Dan had moved to the edge of the bed, silence kept between them. Only moments had passed but it must have felt like an eternity to him. God, she was such a bitch sometimes.

"Ask me again," She prompted.

He crawled back towards her; instinctively Blair fell onto her back. His lips traced the shell of her ear, barely audible. "Blair Cornelia Waldorf, will you marry me?"

Carefully, she looped her arms around his neck. She had always imagined this moment to be on top of the Eiffel tower, outside of the leaning tower of Pisa, bubbling champagne and polka-dot dresses.

Instead, she was in a flat in Brooklyn, clad only in her intimates, surrounded by dirty dishes and a thousand brightly-lit candles, the scent of strawberry incense perfuming the air.

Somehow, it couldn't be more perfect.

"Yes," She mumbled into the flesh on his chest, "A million times yes!" The weight peeled from her shoulders.

He lit up, speechless, scooping her into his arms. "I love you Dan," She laughed as he twirled her around the apartment. And she had never been more intensely direct, in the entirety of her life.

A Humphrey and a Waldorf, who ever would have thought such good things came in unassuming men?


End file.
